Pilgerweg Mecklenburgische Seenplatte: 10 Stages on Foot

Andrea and Gert Kleinsteuber walked the Pilgerweg Mecklenburgische Seenplatte in May 2013 and brought back this detailed account: ten stages from Friedland to Zippelow. The article is available in its original form on their own website.

In April 2011 a new pilgrims' way was opened in the heart of Mecklenburg. Altogether it leads 250 km through the landscape of the Mecklenburg Lake District. Varied and in places untouched nature invites you to walk in silence. The density of venerable old churches means that in most villages you can stop for a rest, reflection and prayer. Parsonages, people living along the way and hotels gladly open their doors.

Stage 1: Friedland – Staven (15 km)

Ascension Day was to be our first real walking day. So we had to stock up on the bare essentials the day before and carry it all with us in our rucksacks.

Krümel and Andrea at the start of the stage in Friedland

That's another reason why our rucksacks are heavier in Germany. Getting supplies is simply harder than on busier pilgrim routes, such as in Spain, where the large numbers of pilgrims have led to a matching infrastructure along the way. In Germany, by contrast, there are hardly any proper shops left in the villages and few inns that are open at the right time – a regrettable development we had already felt on the Via Regia. Pilgrim fare is pretty monotonous in that sense: long-life sausage, usually salami or ham, a piece of cheese, some bread, a few sachets of instant coffee and drinking water. That's it. Between Friedland and Staven there's nowhere to buy anything, and on a public holiday everything would have been closed anyway. In Staven there's only a small shop, but it's usually already closed by the time a pilgrim arrives from Friedland.

So Krümel drove with us to Friedland in the morning. We were in no hurry, as we only had 12 kilometres ahead of us today. He then wanted to walk back to Neubrandenburg and in the evening fetch our car back to the front of his house. When we arrived in Friedland, the church was either still or already locked again. A pity – we would have liked a stamp from here in our pilgrim passport.

Leaving Friedland

Beyond Friedland

You leave the small town north of Neubrandenburg via Mühlenstraße, at the end of which stand some very beautiful old half-timbered houses. Chatting animatedly, we walked in hazy weather along the Datze, a small dammed-up river. They call it the Datzetal, the Datze valley, although there isn't much of a valley to be seen. The river, which is really a stream, flows leisurely through the flat land, through poplar avenues whose trees are hung all over with mistletoe.

From the dead-straight course of the riverbed you can tell that people had a hand in it. Here and there drainage ditches from the fields flow into the Datze. You switch banks several times. You need to watch out at the point where you cross back to the left bank for the second time. A path also branches off half right here. But the right one carries on along the Datze. Neither this nor the next junction is signposted. At the next bridge, with a weir in front of it, you take the tarmac road to the right. It leads straight to Roga. At the entrance to Roga you can see a stork's nest from far away. When we were there, a stork was already sitting on the nest, brooding.

Entering Roga

Past the church, which was sadly also locked, we came to a junction that turned out to be the reason why we ended up walking three kilometres further that day to Staven. On a small green signpost reading "Staven 4.5 km" there is also a scallop shell. Unfortunately, though, this sign pointed in the wrong direction. According to the route description, and also according to the track I had drawn, the way goes straight on here along a concrete-slab track out of the village and directly to Staven. But this sign sent us left towards Bassow, which was itself already 3 km away. If we had gone by the shell alone, whose rays pointed in the right direction and which had no little arrow beneath it (as was usual later on), we would have gone the right way here. As it was, we let the sign confuse us. Possibly some joker had turned the sign round. We'll probably never find out. Sadly, I didn't take a photo of the sign. But since we saw on the map that there was also a 3.5 km path from Bassow to Staven, we followed Krümel, who would have had to turn left here towards Neubrandenburg anyway.

In terms of landscape, the stages from Friedland to Neubrandenburg are clearly different from the ones that follow. There are no lakes or forests anywhere in sight. Instead there's wide open country with individual "islands" of trees. At this time of year everything was lush green and the rapeseed fields were bright yellow. That way you also get animals in front of the camera that are considered very shy, like these cranes here.

Are we really on the right track?

One kilometre beyond Roga (Roga Ausbau) we saw a few small boulders lying under a big lime tree – a welcome invitation to a short rest. Once more we got out the route description to confirm that we had strayed a little from the way. A local who had become curious came over, and of course we told him what we were up to. Somewhat puzzled, he disappeared back into his house, and we heaved our rucksacks onto our backs again to move on. We soon reached Bassow, where we thanked Krümel once more for his hospitality and said goodbye to him. "We'll meet again – you always meet twice in life," I called after him. And that wasn't meant as a threat.

Dandelion meadow beyond Bassow

Entering Staven

And while he set off at a brisk pace towards Neubrandenburg, we turned right to wander leisurely towards Staven through meadows coloured yellow by dandelions and through a small wood. After the dull weather in the morning, with a few raindrops that didn't justify putting on our rain gear, now the sun even came out. Even so, it stayed cool – actually ideal walking weather. Staven soon came into view and from the

distance we could hear a party going on in some allotment gardens. "Oh right, it's Ascension Day / Men's Day. Man, walked all this way and not even got a beer." That had never happened to me before. A little envious, I listened to where the noise was coming from, only to conclude in the end that, sadly, it must be a private party and not a garden pub. Back home my mates would now be cycling from pub to pub. Oh well – onwards!

We quickly found the parsonage just behind the little church.

Staven parsonage

Pilgrims' room in the parsonage

Shortly after we rang, there was a rattling behind the door. We had announced ourselves, but hadn't been able to say when we would arrive. So we were glad when Frau Kretschmer opened the door and kindly asked us in. After a short introduction on the ground floor, she led us up a steep staircase to the attic, where two small rooms are kept ready for pilgrims.

We counted five places to sleep, on beds or camp beds, in the two rooms. There were a few flowers on the table, and next to the Bible stood a bottle of mineral water with glasses. We felt welcome here straight away. On the ground floor there's the bathroom, the toilet and a small kitchen with everything you need. Frau Kretschmer also showed us the big garden with sheep, a small pond and a greenhouse. After we had taken care of everything in the house (shower, making the beds, eating), we sat in the sun in the garden for a while. Frau Kretschmer and later Herr Kretschmer, who is the pastor in Staven and in several surrounding parishes, joined us, and we talked about the way, about our reasons for going on pilgrimage and about the extensive work of a pastor. Already on the Ecumenical Pilgrims' Way we had learned about the many tasks and the long working day of a pastor. As in the secular world, the church too obviously has a staff shortage, and you have to have great respect for this work with people. Here, as in the parsonages that took us in later, we had the impression that a pastor spends a lot of time in the car, driving from one parish to the next. The days when every village had "its" pastor are long gone. I had already noticed that at home too. And then such people, who are really already fully stretched, are also willing to offer pilgrims a place to stay. You can only take your hat off to them and say thank you.

In the parsonage garden

When it got too cool outside, the Kretschmer family invited us into their kitchen for dinner. Perhaps it was a little impolite. But unfortunately we had to decline the food, because firstly we had already eaten, and secondly, everything we eat today we don't have to lug along in our rucksacks tomorrow. You become pretty stingy and thrifty on a pilgrim route like this. You don't throw anything away, and sometimes you'll eat a bread roll that's already two days old. You keep it in your rucksack because you don't know exactly when you'll next get to a shop. But we thanked them warmly and at least sat down at the table with them. I promised Herr Kretschmer I'd let him know when we had finished our walk, which I have since done. I'm sure he's reading along here too, and I send him my warm regards. Perhaps he can help put one or two well-meant suggestions into practice.

At dusk we retreated to our little chamber. Outside, the rain that had set in had silenced the Men's Day celebrations in the neighbourhood. The temptingly fragrant barbecues, which everywhere had been sending their blue columns of smoke up into the sky, had disappeared too. The first day had been a complete success. We were already far away from everyday life, had had a very beautiful walk and had been lovingly taken in at Staven. Tomorrow it's a bit further, to Burg Stargard, and we wanted to set off at about 8 o'clock. That meant the night would be over around 7. One advantage of a pilgrimage like this is that you get something out of the day and don't lie in bed till all hours. Just like your progress, time also seems to pass more slowly.

Well then, good night and see you tomorrow.

Stage 2: Staven – Burg Stargard (28 km)

The alarm clock didn't even need to call us. We had actually been awake for a long time when the familiar and sometimes hated tune rang out. Although you get up quite early, on the way you actually sleep longer than at home. You almost always go to bed early. There's no television or other time-wasters. You're also far away from world events, from scandals, from murder and mayhem and all the negative headlines that our media sensationalise. You wouldn't believe how good that feels. These days we deliberately look and listen away so as to find our inner calm more quickly. A nice example was the scandal about the supposedly virus-contaminated cucumbers from Spain in May 2011. Since we didn't understand any of what was flickering across the bar TVs everywhere, we assumed, given the cucumber pictures being shown again and again, that they were reports about a good cucumber harvest. Without realising it, we had escaped a hysteria that (as later turned out) was unfounded. That should remain a lesson to us.

Just a quick coffee and off we go!

Everything was soon packed back into the rucksacks. The new rucksacks proved their worth. Because you can pack them not only from the top but also through a big zip opening at the front, it was quick to get your gear in order. Of course a bigger rucksack also holds a danger. All too easily you give in to the temptation to pack too much or useless stuff. I really had to pull myself together there.

Just a coffee and a piece of bread with jam, and then we could get going. We had already said goodbye to the Kretschmers the evening before. So we didn't want to disturb them so early in the morning.

Farm track beyond Staven

The way out of Staven is well marked. Right next to the church there's an information board. We had to go towards Neuenkirchen. It's still a bit hazy and quite cold. After some old disused railway tracks outside Staven, the way turns right straight away along a sandy track that gently rises and falls. Shortly before Neuenkirchen comes the A20 motorway, which you cross on a bridge. In Neuenkirchen the way is very well marked. This is where we had originally wanted to spend the night after the first stage, as the 12 kilometres to Staven seemed a bit too short to us. But because of the holiday the day before, the hosts were unfortunately not at home. Frau Albrecht's efforts to organise other accommodation in Neuenkirchen or a pitch for our tent also came to nothing. And so we walked through the waking village. Many people had obviously used the bridge day to take time off.

Aviation exhibition in Neuenkirchen

Suddenly a sight that didn't fit the village idyll at all. On a large plot stood fighter jets and military helicopters in large numbers. "Let's take a closer look," I said. And off we went, leaving the marked route. And sure enough, here stood MiG-17s, 21s and 23s next to various imposing helicopters, in astonishingly good condition. A sign on the gate explained it all. It's the site of the Interessenverein Luftfahrt Neuenkirchen e.V., an aviation enthusiasts' club. It's only open on Sundays from 4 p.m. Crazy, the ideas people come up with. A few photos and on we go.

Signpost beyond Neuenkirchen

At the edge of the village you have to pay some attention so as not to miss the little sign with the shell. It pointed us onto a dark earth track that branches off half left from the tarmac road. On the right-hand side of the track was a fenced-in row of bushes in which a roebuck had got lost. When he noticed us, he frantically tried to break out, which he finally managed after many failed attempts in which he leapt against the wire fence. With strange noises that sounded like scolding, he bounded away through the rapeseed field. I managed to capture that more or less on video. In general, open countryside like this is better for watching animals.

Caught just before take-off

And so we spotted a few cranes again too. Unfortunately they spotted us as well. And so they flew off with their typical, penetrating calls. Not far away at all we could already see the new-build blocks of Neubrandenburg. But like the whole route, this one rarely runs directly to its destination, and so we made a few more loops, once even walking in the opposite direction, before coming back to the Datze. The cycle path from Friedland to Neubrandenburg runs along it, and you can also follow the cycle path signs. The Datze has now taken on its true size too. You could easily have jumped across it.

Meadow before Küssow

We took another break in a shelter by the cycle path, then walked on to Küssow, a suburb of Neubrandenburg. The sun came out now and nature suddenly looked even more alive. The fresh green against the bright yellow rapeseed fields almost dazzled the eye. After the long winter, everything now seemed to burst open at once, like a dam that is suddenly opened. Before Küssow there was a small obstacle: a closed level-crossing barrier. You have to press a button if you want to get across. And if no train is due, it opens straight away after you call.

Church ruin in Küssow

Just after the barrier you should look to the left. There's a small cemetery there, and in it, in the middle of a well-kept lawn, the ruin of an old fieldstone church that you really must take a look at. It's amazing what an aura even a ruin like this can have. Back on the road, we walked through a tidy housing estate as far as the B104. Here the shell points right. But don't worry, you don't have to walk on the main road. We walked on a cycle path a little away from the busy road, through some allotment gardens. But then the town swallows you up. Car dealerships, petrol stations and high-rises everywhere. After so long out in the open countryside, you feel quite out of place. Lots of passers-by, or the people in cars waiting at the traffic lights, looked at us in some bewilderment as we waited dutifully with our rucksacks at the pedestrian lights.

Second breakfast in sight

Then in the distance a big advertising sign: "Kaufland". Second breakfast! So off we went. In the hustle and bustle of the weekend shopping – bear in mind it had just been a holiday, so of course the fridges were empty before the weekend – we felt even more out of place. We withdrew to a snack corner between a bakery and a butcher's. From one we got coffee and from the other a baguette with something on it. People kept glancing at our big rucksacks parked on the floor. But nobody dared to simply ask. Strange, these city folk – in the countryside we'd long since have been deep in conversation. The city, on the other hand, is anonymous and cold, all the more so in a new-build district like this. Nope, nobody would get me to live there. I'm staying in the countryside. Sure, everyone knows almost everything about everyone, which can sometimes be embarrassing. But everything is friendlier, warmer and more heartfelt. Well, apart from a few grumblers, quarrelsome types and killjoys behind the chain-link fence, who you'll find everywhere, but who soon end up quite lonely in a village like that.

Small animal park in the Lindetal

As I've already written, we didn't want to go through the centre of Neubrandenburg again. So I consulted the map on my GPS device to find the shortest way into the Lindetal. There you rejoin the pilgrims' way, which we had now left. Through spacious green parkland we quickly found the steep descent into the idyllic green valley. You can hardly believe you were just in a prefab housing estate. At the bottom we came across a small animal park that is looked after by people with disabilities. To the right and left of the path a barefoot trail had been laid out, culminating in wading through a ford in the Linde and a strip of broken glass for the really brave. Burg Stargard is already signposted, and here and there you'll find a shell too. If you pay attention to both, you can't get lost.

In the Lindetal

Along the Linde, a little river about 3 metres wide that winds its way through the partly marshy valley, we walked through lush green deciduous woodland. To the left of the path we looked at the ruins of an old paper mill that was once driven by the water of the Linde. The chimney that suddenly appears in the woods is hard to miss and looks rather odd standing there in the middle of the forest. At a clearing with benches, the leftovers of a Men's Day party could still be seen. From here it was another 3.5 kilometres to Burg Stargard. The path climbed gently, and beside us a sheep pasture was being fenced in for a large flock that was penned in a little way off, bleating away. Just before the small town the path goes through a wood once more, and on a bench on the left-hand side of the path sat four women of a certain age, who were obviously on a bike tour and were now crowning it with a piccolo of sparkling wine. In high spirits they spoke to us, and of course we satisfied their curiosity. And straight away it turned out that one of the ladies had also been on pilgrimage in Spain. At once the conversation turned into shop talk. They wanted to know how heavy our rucksacks were and even to try them on. It was a fun end to our day's walk. With a tip on which way to go through Burg Stargard to get to our accommodation, they said goodbye, only to overtake us again later on their bikes at the entrance to the town, calling out loudly.

Villa Martha in Burg Stargard

The "Villa Martha", a small guesthouse that offers pilgrims rooms at a good price, was quickly found. In Burg Stargard there's also a second private place to stay, with Frau Heinke at Sabeler Weg 5. I had enquired there too, but unfortunately was called back a little too late. A pity – it would surely have been very nice there too. But this way I got to hear from Frau Kämig, who runs the "Villa Martha" guesthouse, on the phone: "Well, for pilgrims we always have a bed." Lovely! Herr Kämig, who has also been on pilgrimage himself, greeted us joyfully at the door. He led us to a very nice room – pure luxury by pilgrim standards and expectations.

St. Johannes town church

After unpacking, which wasn't so extensive here as we didn't need our sleeping bags, a bath in the tub and the laundry that had become necessary, we went to the market square opposite the St. Johannes town church for a bit of shopping, a coffee, an ice cream and a beer. We had to do some shopping because there's nowhere to buy anything until Carpin, which we wouldn't pass until the day after tomorrow. So once again it was a matter of choosing something nourishing, light and not quick to spoil. At home you always look for big packs for little money. Here it's only about weight and small pack size. Price plays a minor role. As an iron reserve, though, we always carry some dried fruit, a few muesli bars and nuts. They fill you up quickly and give you energy. For the evening we also bought a bottle of red wine, which we emptied over dinner in the guesthouse garden.

The second day was now history too. And the pictures of the way that I'd had in my head beforehand didn't match reality at all. Everything so far had been even more beautiful and even more interesting. Above all, I hadn't expected to have so much contact with people along the way – an impression that was to grow even stronger over the next few days.

Under a gloriously kitschy gold-framed picture of a round dance of maidens, we quickly fell asleep in the super comfortable beds. Tomorrow it's 21 kilometres to Rödlin, a distance that can hardly frighten us.

Stage 3: Burg Stargard – Rödlin (21 km)

We slept well under the round dance of maidens in its gold frame. Breakfast was at half past seven – and what a breakfast. Frau Kämig had filled the whole table with things a self-catering pilgrim otherwise rarely gets to see.

Lavish breakfast at the Villa Martha guesthouse

"Who's supposed to eat all this?" I asked. And straight away I set about the boiled eggs. Two bread rolls then went into the rucksack. May the Kämigs forgive us. A quick chat with the landlady, who then pressed the pilgrim stamps into our pilgrim passports. And by 8 o'clock we were back out on the street. We agreed that we can recommend this place to stay without reservation.

Up to Burg Stargard castle

The well-marked way leads out of town towards the castle hill. A castle hill first thing in the morning isn't really my thing – especially not after a breakfast like that. Puffing, I put one foot in front of the other to haul myself up. My rucksack clearly wanted to go in the opposite direction. I still hadn't found the ideal settings. The load is supposed to sit on your hips, on the pelvic bones! First you have to find those on me, never mind a waist. With me there are only two options: either above the belly or below it. I went for below, because my belly only ends very high up. So I set the shoulder straps as long as possible so that the load really rested on the hip fins of the rucksack. As a result it swayed back and forth a bit as I walked. That worked quite well for a while, then I got backache, which I fought with a frequency of breaks that was untypically high for me. Andrea was already starting to wonder.

But we're not there yet, we're still on the climb up to the castle. Thick cobblestones in a sunken lane give your shoes poor grip. And so once again I'm glad I'm at least holding a trekking pole.

Burg Stargard castle

We only looked at the castle of Burg Stargard from the outside. I don't even know whether it was open yet at that time. Besides, it was Saturday. Maybe next time. Then at last the path went downhill a bit again. Man, it's like being in Thuringia! A man came up behind us and asked curiously where we had come from and where we were going. Dutifully we told him what we had always answered in these cases so far. That we were on the PWMSP (which of course I spelled out in full) and had started in Friedland on Thursday. And that we wanted to get to Rödlin today and then over the next few days to Fürstenberg and Mirow, and then, against the actual direction of the route, get back to Neubrandenburg via Neustrelitz. Whether he really believed us remained uncertain. Because he gave us a slightly odd look. But it wasn't to be our last encounter with him.

A rest before Holldorf

In the stretch of woodland before Holldorf we took another break. And I'm not looking very happy here, because I was still battling with my rucksack. Andrea wanted to take something off me – that'll be the day! I should leave the tent behind at the next place we stayed and pick it up later with the car. No! – my defiant answer. "We'll still need it."

Forest panorama

Beyond Holldorf the way, for once, runs along the road. And shortly before Ballwitz I was suddenly tormented by an urgent call of nature. And it was tormenting me really, really urgently! And when you need one, there's never a bush nearby. So I walked through the village rather stiffly and spotted a bench by a pond. If I sit down there for a while, maybe it'll pass. It didn't pass! And then something happened that you can only experience on a pilgrim route. Because for every problem, a solution suddenly comes along out of nowhere.

Rescue in my hour of need – the parsonage in Ballwitz

This solution was the parsonage in Ballwitz, whose door was standing wide open. Heaven-sent! I thought to myself. Without thinking about the deeper meaning of the phrase. Before it was too late, I ran to the door without rucksack or pole. A woman was just mopping the hallway. "Oh dear, and now I'm turning up at a bad time too. Is the pastor in?" And there I was, inside. I was in a hurry, after all, but didn't want to blurt it all out at once. I knocked on the office door and walked in without waiting for an answer. Herr Rudolph, as the pastor is called, as I later found out, was deep in a phone call and asked me to wait outside for a moment. Of course, I answered, a little sheepishly. A short while later he asked me in. I immediately launched into my explanations of who and where and why … "Just a moment, please," and he cleared a small round table with two armchairs. "Let's sit down first." All right, I thought, that's better and polite too. And beads of sweat were probably already standing on my forehead. I repeated my explanations at breakneck speed and then finally came to the real reason for my raid. "Of course we have a toilet here." And he showed me the way. In my haste I almost overlooked that the toilet brush was standing in the bowl. What I did overlook, though, was that there was no paper. Luckily there was another cubicle next door that had some. Man, was I relieved. That makes a day like this really relaxing straight away.

In the church at Ballwitz

Back with Herr Rudolph, he walked with us to the church and told us a little of its history. How, for example, the modern font came about or where the chandelier came from. Finally, he urged us to be sure to visit the church in Zachow. And he gave us a few tips on how to get hold of the key in case it was locked. We thanked him warmly and set off again. A sandy track then took us to Zachow, which is only 2.5 kilometres further on. Before that, though, there was an encounter that made us laugh. Who should come along but the gentleman who had quizzed us in the morning, on a tandem, with his wife on the back. He greeted us with wild hand gestures and she looked at us in disbelief. "I bet his wife didn't believe him and now he wanted to prove that there really are two lunatics walking to Mirow with rucksacks," was my explanation.

Right at the entrance to Zachow we noticed a large property with a riding hall and an oval for horse racing. Icelandic ponies were roaming the big paddock – a sight you wouldn't expect in Germany. Someone with a lot of money has settled here, and in a tiny place with no through traffic – strange. Only one paved road leads to Zachow, and it didn't seem to be large.

Zachow village church

In the village itself the little church caught our eye immediately, a rectangular half-timbered building with a wooden, pyramid-shaped bell tower. This sight was just as unusual. But the village was to become even more unusual and amaze us. Right behind the church is the Rhode-Schäper family's pilgrim hostel, where we already knew nobody would be at home this weekend. Right next to it was another smart family home, from whose door a woman came towards us. We asked about the property that Herr Rudolph had mentioned to us because of the church key. "The church key? I've got that too. Would you also like to see our smithy?"

The smithy

Gladly, we said. And off she went for the key, coming back a little later to walk with us to the smithy. The smithy was never actually a smithy. It has simply been newly built in the style of an old village forge and now houses a village community centre. We were amazed when we entered the room. Now you have to know that at home in our village, which has over 800 inhabitants after all, we're active in a local heritage society that has been fighting for years for a bigger clubhouse. At every meeting we hope that not all the members will turn up. But ever since we were incorporated into the big district town of Delitzsch, our village has just been the fifth wheel on the cart, and funds aren't distributed according to how much activity there is in a district, but nice and evenly, watering-can style. Even when there's really something going on with us, we're treated exactly the same as a district where nothing at all is happening.

Community room in the smithy

Now we learned here that in a village of 68 inhabitants it's possible for almost half of them to be organised in a cultural association that looks after the church, organises a wide range of cultural events and has conjured up something like the smithy out of nothing. That really commands considerable respect. In the beautifully designed clubhouse, old blacksmith's tools and equipment collected from the surrounding area are on display. The association, officially called ZINNOBER Kulturkreis Zachow e.V., has a jam-packed annual programme, and we arrived just in time to see an exhibition of paintings and sculptures by the two artists Siegfried Besser and Anke Besser-Güth from Saxony.

Exhibition in the Zachow church

The two of them have been supporting the association for years in its fight for the old church. In GDR times the village was supposed to be depopulated. Under the slogan "If the church dies, the village dies", all efforts, whether Christian-motivated or not, are now directed at preserving the heart of the village. The wooden bell tower contains beams that demonstrably date from the 15th century. And this bell tower is dilapidated, so the bell may no longer be rung. Money is raised through events like today's. The Reemtsma Foundation has also been won over as a funder. The foundation has pledged 50,000 euros.

The latest coup was a stand at the Protestant Kirchentag in Hamburg. "Zachow church on wheels – and everyone's pulling together" reads a leaflet with which the people of Zachow wanted to draw attention to the problem with their church in order to obtain further funds.

We made a donation on the spot. As fascinated as we were by everything we were told, at some point we had to move on. And so we said goodbye to Zachow and its energetic inhabitants. And we take home with us the knowledge that a lot is possible when everyone pulls together.

Beyond Zachow you soon reach a larger stretch of forest. Here and there you could see marshy patches in the woods, which is why our insect repellent came into action again here. Along idyllic forest tracks we zigzagged a little all the way to Wanzka. Noteworthy and well worth seeing in Wanzka is the former Cistercian convent from the 13th century. The gate and the convent church are all that can still be seen of the monastery complex. After the convent was dissolved during the Reformation, it was used as a quarry after the Thirty Years' War. The convent church was almost completely destroyed by a devastating fire, but was rebuilt.

Lake Wanzka

We didn't stay long in Wanzka, since we had already taken long breaks in Ballwitz and Zachow. Only at Lake Wanzka did we put our feet up briefly once more. A few villagers were also on the jetty, and straight away the questions started again about where we were heading. The funny thing was that they could tell from our dialect that we come from Delitzsch. But shoes back on and onwards! Because we were getting quite cold. It can't have been more than 12 degrees, and a brisk wind was whistling across the lake. But it couldn't be much further now. Over a level crossing, where there's supposedly also pilgrim accommodation in the crossing keeper's house, the way leads into Rödlin. It would certainly be good if the places to stay were marked everywhere. Because we didn't see a hostel sign at the crossing keeper's house.

Church in Rödlin

Instead, from far away we could already see Rödlin's white, freshly plastered church with its characteristic bell tower and copper cupola. One special feature here is that the bell tower is at the side of the nave. It's the only church in the neo-classical style for miles around. And? – The door was open. Curious, we went in, already knowing that a wedding had been celebrated here today. The local pastor, Pirina Kittel, had already told us so when we booked. In the best of moods she now greeted us as we suddenly found ourselves standing on rose petals in the entrance. "I have to go out again. Here's the key to the parsonage. I'm sure you'll find everything yourselves" – and in a flash she was in her car and roared off. Another restless pastor on wheels.

Knitted birch

Amazed, we stepped onto the parsonage grounds. A thick birch tree caught our eye immediately. It is covered in colourful knitted wool. We learned later that the knitted blankets came from a project by the women of the parish, and afterwards it simply seemed too much of a shame to unravel them again. So without further ado they dressed the parsonage tree, which now stands as an eye-catcher on the well-kept lawn in front of the house. The beautiful house is surrounded by a very well-tended garden. The fruit trees were pruned to perfection and in full blossom. Someone with green fingers must have been at work here. Frau Kittel told us later that this was her husband's work and she has little part in it.

The Kirchsee behind the parsonage

Behind the house there's a jetty on the Kirchsee. Unfortunately you can't swim in the lake again yet. A pig-fattening farm used to let slurry run into it. The pigsties are long gone. But the lake is only recovering slowly. A pity, really. On the other hand: with a bathing spot, this place would be almost too perfect. Work is still going on on the pilgrim accommodation. Up here in the attic whole football teams could spend the night, there's so much room. We chose the smallest room, with a bunk bed and two single beds. The big room next door is obviously used for Christian education classes for children. Colourful home-made posters, cartoons and photos decorated the walls. Everywhere you could see craft materials and games. A few scraps of paper were still lying on the table. There's life in here. You could see that straight away.

Pilgrim accommodation in the parsonage attic

Also in this room – a kitchen with everything you need to cater for lots of people. And for pilgrims, too, there's everything you need. And so we made ourselves comfortable here. First, though, we needed something in our stomachs. In the village there's the inn and guesthouse "Nussbaum". And luckily for us it was open today. Well, it's not exactly a gourmet temple. And the furniture is getting on a bit too. But it was fine for a farmer's breakfast and a beer. The guesthouse also offers pilgrims a place to stay. They charge €25 per person per night, the waitress told me when I asked. Well, a pilgrim will surely still prefer to stay in the parsonage. And that surely doesn't necessarily have only to do with the cost.

content

When we got back, we sat in the beautiful garden for a while. A little later Frau Kittel came too, and we chatted with her for a bit. Not for long, as she still had to prepare her Sunday sermon. So we fled from the cold into our chamber and crawled into our sleeping bags even before dusk. Tomorrow we're off to Wokuhl. As the crow flies it's not that far at all. But as we had already learned, the direct route isn't always the most beautiful. And so tomorrow we'll again be walking back and forth between the villages a few times and covering quite a few kilometres on beautiful detours.

Stage 4: Rödlin – Wokuhl (24.5 km)

I was awake again before the alarm, and a glance out of the window told me it was going to be another beautiful day. It was astonishing that, despite the not-so-great weather forecast, we had apparently been travelling in a "fair-weather bubble" so far. Only on the first day had we had a bit of rain, and it hardly bothered us since it was neither heavy nor long. Since then it had been quite cold, but dry and sunny. That's ideal walking weather. And the sky showed the kind of clouds that delight any photographer.

Blue / green – Meseta mood just beyond Rödlin

But I'm repeating myself. I hoped it would be just the same again today. The view from the window was promising, at any rate. With prospects like that, getting up is twice as easy. So I put the water on for coffee and laid out the breakfast we had brought along – bread, cheese and a bit of jam once again. Everything is packed in no time, and before eight o'clock we had our rucksacks on our backs again. We had already said goodbye to our cheerful and friendly hostess the evening before, and so we left the property in good spirits, past the "knitted birch".

Lonely railway line

Out of Rödlin we walked along the road for quite a while. Once you reach the forest, a waymark points left. Here too you follow an asphalt road until you reach Rödlin Ausbau. A dog greeted our arrival with loud barking. But he soon calmed down again when he realised that we were moving on without rattling his garden gate. In the middle of this part of Rödlin, which consists of just a few farmsteads, we then had to bear right. The signposting had been pretty good so far, so we were sure we were on the right path.

In the middle of the forest we crossed a single-track railway line, which we were to come across several more times today. After about 2 kilometres the forest thinned out and we stepped out onto a lovely farm track lined with big trees. On the right we could already see the Schlesersee, which borders the village of Carpin.

Reassembled signpost

Before a level crossing over the same single-track line you have a choice of two paths, straight on or to the right. And sure enough, there was a signpost here. Unfortunately it was broken, but the snapped-off pieces were still tucked behind the rest of the sign. So we were able to put the sign back together. And that's how we found out that we had to carry straight on to get to Carpin, because a small extra arrow on the sign pointed that way. First, though, we made a detour to the Schlesersee.

Schlesersee near Carpin

There's a small jetty and a bathing spot here. It was far too cold for a swim, but I used the jetty to take a few photos of the idyllic lake. Back on the path you soon reach an asphalt road, which you follow to the right to get to the edge of Carpin. According to the description there's supposed to be a turning to the right here (crossing the railway again). Either we missed the turning or there really was no signpost. So we walked past Carpin's old railway station to a main road, where a wooden bench and table just to the left invited us to take a break. After some dried fruit and muesli bars we continued on our way. According to my notes we now had to keep right. There was no signpost here.

Sunday surprise: an open bakery in Carpin

From a distance we saw a big coach and a few tourists standing in the middle of the village. As we got closer, we noticed that there was a restaurant and a country hotel here. The travellers had obviously spent the night here and had just had breakfast before setting off. Hmm, maybe there'd be something in it for us too. And sure enough, round the corner there was a bakery that was even open today, on a Sunday. Of course we didn't let this opportunity slip and stocked up on provisions. It was rather unlikely that we'd find anything else to eat today. And we had already learned that on the Via Regia: take every chance you get, even if it makes your rucksack even heavier.

Little chapel in Carpin

Further through the village we noticed a tiny little light-blue house with a cross mounted on its gable. You could even see a small bell hanging beneath it. That's probably the smallest church we'll come across on the way. So we promptly took the opportunity to have a look inside, since the door was open and a few elderly women were standing in front of the chapel chatting. With a greeting we squeezed past them on the narrow path and stepped inside. A few rows of chairs in front of a tiny altar – that was all there was in the room. The young pastor, who was still gathering up a few things, was already in a hurry again and, as she explained, still had a baptism to get to. So there was no time for a chat. But we did learn this much: the chapel had been put together from parts of an old barrack hut, and because of its paintwork and its look it could just as well have stood somewhere in Scandinavia. One more quick photo and then we were off again (or so we thought). Roadworks forced us onto the right-hand side of the road. The B198 through the village was being rebuilt here. Perhaps that's why the signpost had disappeared, and why on this stage we walked quite a way in the wrong direction. After a little over a kilometre, which we walked on a cycle path along the B198, I noticed our mistake and we turned back. Once again it paid off to have the GPS device with us.

On the way to Bergfeld

The track I had recorded beforehand directed us onto a sandy path towards Bergfeld. Considering an imaginary straight line to today's destination, this meant we were once again making a bigger loop and so once again pushing up our daily mileage. The lonely sandy path seemed to go on forever. Above us a white stork circled in the lightly clouded sky, and before Bergfeld we used a little bench by the wayside for another rest. That gave us time to take in the glorious sky, which made a beautiful contrast with the lush green cornfields and the bright yellow rapeseed. I find cloudless skies boring. But what was going on up there today made me reach for my camera again and again. Bergfeld seemed deserted. Hardly a soul was to be seen. By now it was Sunday, just after noon, and most people were probably having their after-lunch rest.

Historic village smithy in Bergfeld

Not us! And so we didn't miss the signpost either, which sent us left just after the historic village smithy onto a muddy path into the forest. A friendly old man waved to us from a garden. And shortly afterwards we had to flee the path, because coming downhill towards us was a horse-drawn covered wagon with two massive draught horses in front. Planwagencamping.de was written on the wagon, and on the coach box sat two cheerful women who greeted us warmly and thanked us for giving them right of way. Given the speed they had going, we didn't really have much choice but to step aside into the forest. A little later we saw more wagons like that.

Covered-wagon camp at Grünow

A whole circle of wagons stood near Grünow in the open woodland. This is surely a very interesting way to get to know the area too, and a very environmentally friendly one at that. Burly draught horses stood next door in a paddock. And again, a little later, a brand-new bench and table invited us to take a little break. A heavily pregnant young woman was already sitting there in the sun, and I wondered that in her condition she dared to venture so far from a village or a paved road. After a short chat with her, the mystery was solved. Her partner came across a meadow with his hunting dog 10 minutes later. He had been watching red deer off the path. They both said goodbye to us, and we lay in the sun for a while longer. Only the hardness of the narrow wooden benches kept me from falling asleep. And so I urged Andrea to get moving too.

Panorama before Steinmühle

The clouds in the sky were visibly thickening, and I feared that we might still get wet today. A little later, through a very beautiful forest with many marshy ponds, we quickly reached the village of Steinmühle.

Steinmühle

Well, calling it a village is actually saying too much. It's just a few houses. The most important of them is surely theJugendwaldheim, a youth education centre of the Müritz National Park Office. Pilgrims can find a place to sleep here too. Today we met lots of weekend day-trippers here and all the benches were taken. Children sat on ponies being led along the paths, and a few people were enjoying their coffee. We didn't stay long and quickly spotted the signpost towards Goldenbaum. The route description now promised us a climb that was supposed to be "quite something".

The "climb" beyond Steinmühle

Goldenbaum

And indeed, you wouldn't expect such a long incline in this area. Even if it then turned out to be fairly moderate. All the same, you had more the impression of being in Thuringia than in Mecklenburg. Below us to the left, a stream rushed through the valley that could have given any mountain stream a run for its money. But then we were already stepping out of the forest, and at the end of a green valley the village of Goldenbaum appeared half left, with its large brick church, which unfortunately was locked. Shortly before the end of the long, drawn-out village the signpost sent us onto a farm track again. What followed was a larger stretch of forest, again with lots of marshy spots and deadwood to the right and left of the path. And what do you get in surroundings like that at the right temperatures? – Mosquitoes! So we couldn't dig the insect repellent out of our rucksacks fast enough. A few mosquitoes had already managed to bite us. They were like mad things, buzzing aggressively around us. Luckily the "Antibrumm" worked very quickly and we had our peace again. The only drawback: it's a bit sticky on the skin, and when it's dry and dusty, the dust really collects on your skin.

Unfortunately my observations of the sky and the forecasts I drew from them were to prove right. A dark wall of cloud was building up ahead of us just as we left the forest. And about 2 kilometres before our destination it began to rain so hard that we had to put on our rain jackets after all. We hurried through the village of Grammertin, and a little later we stood dripping wet at the gate of the parsonage in Wokuhl.

Arrived in Wokuhl

We were received, not exactly invitingly, by a young woman: "Did you book in advance? Really, Wokuhl ought to be taken off the list of hostels!" All of which rather contradicted the oversized hostel sign on the yard gate. She led us into a room which, apart from a cupboard and a big table with chairs, contained only a long couch. For two people that might get a bit tight. But she gave no sign of offering us any alternative, and because of the somewhat odd welcome I didn't dare ask either. Well, at least there was a well-equipped kitchen and a bathtub. For the night we did have our air mattresses with us, which I could blow up in an emergency. The only risk was that they might get damaged on the rather rickety old wooden floor. Our lightweight air mattresses only have a fairly thin outer skin, after all.

our bed for the night

Luckily I then discovered that one half of the couch could be pulled out. That way I could sleep diagonally on the pulled-out side and Andrea on the other half. We set ourselves up as best we could, because the young woman had quickly disappeared again – though not without leaving us the donation box and the stamp for our pilgrim passports. So they are prepared for pilgrims after all. After a bath we went back into the village, because at the entrance to the village, in the rain, we had spotted an advertising board drawing our attention to "Ritas Lädchen" – Rita's little shop.

in "Ritas Lädchen"

And sure enough, behind a smart family home there were a few tables and chairs under a party tent in the driveway to the garage. On the rear one of the two roller doors there was a bell together with a sign asking you to ring it, which I promptly did. A little later the door rattled and slowly slid upwards. Behind it appeared a sight that we liked very much – a real old-fashioned corner shop. And suddenly we didn't know what to take. It's never that easy on a pilgrimage like this: things have to be light, small and keep well. But first of all, coffee and some of the home-made cake were what we fancied, and a beer for me as well. For me, a beer like that is a reward after such a long march. Shivering a little, we sat down on the plastic chairs. The cake was excellent, and after we had picked out some more provisions and a bottle of red wine for the evening, "Rita" took her leave again. She actually had a house full of visitors. "If you need anything else – just ring." Thank you, we said, and we were sure that this is a valuable tip for the pilgrims who come after us. Here's to a long life for "Ritas Lädchen". Hungry and thirsty pilgrims will be grateful. We also made a short detour to the Pfarrsee, where there's a bathing spot and a jetty.

Clouds over the Pfarrsee

It had stopped raining. But the backdrop of clouds over the little lake looked dramatic. Back at the parsonage we were quite amazed when the bell rang again and another pilgrim was standing at the door. Now it was really getting busy here. And lo and behold, suddenly there was a foam mattress too. The lone pilgrim had set off from Fürstenberg today, so she was walking in the opposite direction, and her name was Anne. She hadn't planned that much time and wanted to take the link between the two branches beyond Rödlin via Usadel to Prillwitz, and from there walk back to Fürstenberg via Neustrelitz and Mirow. Well, maybe we'd meet again then. We talked for a long time before we went to bed. Tomorrow it will only be 16 kilometres to Fürstenberg.

interesting iron crosses in front of the church

And if we don't get lost again, we should get there fairly early this time. Just as well, since a slightly bigger town usually has more to see than a lonely little village like Wokuhl, whose main sights are limited to the church with the interesting iron crosses in front of it and an elaborately restored village smithy. Even the local pub seems to be closed. The rainy weather and the dull light that came with it may also have made the place seem a bit dreary, perhaps unfairly. In any case, we were hoping for better weather the next day. Or at least that we'd get to Fürstenberg dry.

Stage 5: Wokuhl – Fürstenberg (16 km)

The night went just as you might have expected on this ottoman. In the middle of the night it even collapsed with a loud crash, after I had come back from the toilet and wanted to lie down again. My feet hung in the air and my inflatable pillow kept slipping out from under my head. Nope, a calm, restful night is something else. Somewhat crumpled, I was glad to be able to get up at last.

Goodbye for now? You always meet twice in life

But after the first glance out of the window my mood brightened at once. The clouds had cleared overnight and it was a clear, cool morning. So cool that the windowpanes steamed up. A quick bite to eat and a coffee – I had managed to get the rolls from Carpin, which had turned rubbery by now, crispy again in the toaster. Outside the door we said goodbye to Anne, and we swapped our two cameras so as to have a photo of each of us. Then we left Wokuhl in opposite directions. Perhaps we'll meet again?

As expected, Wokuhl looked much better in the sunshine. On the way out of the village there's a very nice football pitch, where someone was already busy tending the grass.

Are we on the right track here??

On the barely used country road we walked towards Comthurey, or rather a small settlement outside the village proper. Right at the end of the settlement I saw a path leading towards the village centre that looked to me like the right way. Only there was no signpost here. It's possible that we should have kept going along the road and would have reached the village that way too. But we took the little path, which first led downhill over long flights of steps and then across a meadow to the village centre. Here we met the road again. A look at the map showed that we had taken a little shortcut. Whether it was the right one, we still don't know to this day.

Here we're definitely on the right track

Idyllic Schmetterlingsweg (Butterfly Trail)

But that from here on we were definitely on the right track again was shown by a small green sign reading "Schmetterlingsweg Dabelow" and the scallop shell. The route description promised us one of the most beautiful sections of the pilgrims' way, and that here it would do full justice to the name "Mecklenburg Lake District". And so it turned out. A narrow, damp path first led through a marshy forest and then followed the shore of the Dabelowsee for a long way. The only fly in the ointment, slightly spoiling the impression, was a long, ugly fence enclosing a tree nursery, which you have to walk along. Tree stumps gnawed to a point told us that beavers live here. That was news to me – that beavers don't just build their lodges and fell loads of trees by flowing water, but also by a big lake like this. But an information board officially confirmed it.

Bathing spot on the Dabelowsee

A roebuck that wasn't about to be disturbed

We took a short rest at a bathing spot where, after climbing down an embankment, we found a bench and a rather makeshift-looking pipe railing leading straight into the water. "Bathing at your own risk! The Mayor" said a sign. But bathing was out of the question at these temperatures. So we sat there watching all sorts of waterbirds and little fish lingering near the shore. In the distance we even saw a white-tailed eagle swooping down onto the water and seemingly carrying something off. Back on the path I noticed a roebuck grazing alone about 100 metres away. He hadn't noticed us yet, so I was able to take a few photos and some video. Only when we made some noise and started moving again did he take flight. In the soft ground you could see the depth and the large spacing of the cloven-hoofed animal's tracks, which are a sign of flight. Well, hopefully we didn't frighten him too much. Shortly before Dabelow the tracks petered out. At the entrance to the village you cross a bridge and can already see the very interesting village church. It was built in 1855 as a half-timbered building.

Very interesting village church in Dabelow

The upper part is made entirely of wood. Inside, too, mostly wood has been used. On the outside, the rich ornamentation stands out. The timber framing is artfully filled with brick, and the wooden superstructures are artfully decorated as well. This church is probably unique in the region. You could see that the church had recently been completely renovated. And the renovation has done it a lot of good, in my opinion. It is now supposed to look again the way its builder, the state architect Friedlich Wilhelm Buttel, once conceived and planned it. Buttel was a pupil of Schinkel and also built the beautiful palace church in Neustrelitz.

The rest of the way to Fürstenberg doesn't really deserve any further mention. As beautiful as the first part of the stage had been, the rest of the route was just as boring. From afar we saw the village of Altthymen, where we rested a while in the bus shelter and chatted with an elderly gentleman. Or rather, he did most of the chatting, and we now know his entire medical history. That's also where Andrea zipped her long trouser legs back on, because despite the sun it was bitterly cold and getting windier and windier. In the village there's a fairly large church (also a work of Buttel's). Only as we got closer did we notice that the nave no longer has a roof. A Red Army shell went through the roof of the former parish church in the last weeks of the war and turned it into a ruin. In 2010 at least the tower was restored and the walls of the nave secured. Today the church is owned by the municipality. But services are still held there occasionally.

Fortune teller?

On the way out of the village we noticed a small, crooked hut. "Fortune telling" was written above the door, and on the handle hung a sign saying "please ring at the house". So the fortune teller's abilities couldn't have been all that great, otherwise she'd know when someone was standing outside the hut. :)

The long road to Fürstenberg

Ever since Dabelow we had been walking on asphalt roads. And now came a long, boring section of tarmac through a forest. This road dragged on until shortly before Fürstenberg. The only, rather dubious, variety was provided by the fighter jets thundering low over our heads. Does that really have to happen over a national park? That's why we saw protest signs with a crossed-out fighter jet in many places. 1.2 kilometres before Fürstenberg the small, little-used asphalt road joins the very busy country road to Lychen. With every oncoming vehicle we had to flee onto the verge, which is what we'd advise all pilgrims who come after us to do. Shortly after the town sign, a signpost points left. "Ravensbrück" – this place name is deeply troubling and bears witness to the darkest chapter of German history. From 1939 this was the site of Nazi Germany's largest women's concentration camp, built by the SS. More than 150,000 women, children and men from 40 nations were held prisoner and tormented here. Tens of thousands died, starved or were murdered here up to 1945. Today there's an impressive but harrowing memorial here, which recalls what happened and keeps alive the memory of the victims.

Having arrived in Fürstenberg, we took the first opportunity to stop for a rest in a little café. Besides what a café like that usually offers, there were also various vegetarian dishes on the board. We ordered a very tasty Arabic lentil soup. It was just lunchtime, we weren't in any hurry at all, and of course the questions about what we were up to came thick and fast. Then we strolled slowly towards the market square, where at the parsonage we found that nobody was home yet. A phone call to the number posted on the door didn't get us anywhere either.

Fürstenberg's imposing town church

The town church from the inside

We left a message and set off once more, rucksacks and all, to take a look at the town. First we went into the town church, which was open. This yellow brick building, built in a romantic neo-Gothic style, is, like the church in Dabelow we had already seen today, a work of Friedrich Wilhelm Buttel. The interior we now entered feels very large and spacious. The dark wood of the pews and the galleries makes an interesting contrast with the white plaster. The room feels bright and friendly. The batik tapestry behind the altar depicts the Resurrection of Christ, dates from 1963 and is the largest of its kind in Europe. For town-planning reasons the church stands "the wrong way round". That means the altar is in the west, whereas the more prestigious façade with the slender tower faces east. The town fathers wanted it that way to give the market square more impact. I would have wished for the same way of thinking from the current town fathers when they decided to approve the building of a dreary, unimaginative shopping centre opposite the beautiful church. That's not what I'd call beautiful, and it somewhat spoils the overall impression of the square.

Footbridge over the Havel

We walked across the square towards the Baalensee, where the landing stage for the excursion boat is. The sun had long since disappeared again and a stiff breeze was blowing across the lake. Here by the water it got too uncomfortable for us after all, and we went back into town after taking a look at an interesting wooden footbridge over the Havel. The Havel and the three surrounding lakes define the character of the town, which used to be a health resort but today suffers from the traffic on the B96 federal road running through the town centre. It's no coincidence that you see a number of banners around town demanding that the trunk road be rerouted around the town. But the town's almost island-like position in the middle of the three big lakes probably puts that demand in the realm of utopia.

Meanwhile I tried the pastor's mobile number again. And this time he answered and had already read the note we had left at the parsonage. His wife was already waiting for us, and so we went back to move into our lodgings for the night.

our lodgings in the parsonage

Fürstenberg town hall

They're in the attic of the parsonage and, as in Rödlin, are used for church classes for children. Kitchen, shower, toilet and a big room where you could blow up and lay out the air beds provided – for a pilgrim that's full comfort. So I took the air pump, which luckily was lying ready, and filled two of the air beds. My lungs would probably have been a bit overwhelmed by that. Today we treated ourselves to a proper dinner for once. As I've already written, you have to seize the opportunities. And here the opportunity was an Italian restaurant. And I love pasta. The Italian may have spoken with a Berlin accent – we were now in Brandenburg – but the spaghetti was great. One more little round past the harbour and the Havel lock, the obligatory shopping for the next day's provisions, and this day too was history. In front of the town church we then met the pastor, who was putting away an advertising board. In his office he gave us today's stamp, and we handed over our donation for the lodgings. We rounded off the day once again with a bottle of red wine (Rioja this time). Tomorrow the longest stage of our tour was waiting. It will be almost 35 kilometres to Diemitz. Here in the southern part of the pilgrims' way there are only a few hostels. And the signposting is said to be patchy.

Well, we're curious.

Stage 6: Fürstenberg – Diemitz

The air was out –

of the thick air beds that the parsonage in Fürstenberg keeps ready for pilgrims. They were a bit wobbly, but we lay on them comfortably enough.

Air-mattress camp in Fürstenberg

Breakfast was the leftovers from the day before, plus coffee. That day we left the house as early as 7 o'clock, because a somewhat longer walk of almost 36 km was on the cards. What's more, it was a stretch that was said not to be particularly well signposted. So, eyes open! And that's exactly how it turned out. For long stretches I had to rely on my Garmin and on the track I had made from the route description online.

Out of Fürstenberg we first walked along the B96 until, after the Havel bridge, a shell sign points to the right. Beyond the railway bridge begins the Röblin settlement, named after the lake it sits on. That's where we now wanted to go, but contrary to the description we took the lakeside path – certainly a small detour, but on this route detours are pretty much normal and usually intended anyway.

Beautiful villas on the Röblinsee

Relics of the Soviet army

So we accepted this little detour (voluntarily, this time) and followed the lakeside path along the sunny side of the lovely villas by the water. No doubt about it, this is where the better-off people of Fürstenberg once settled. And today it seemed to be drawing a lot of “outsiders” with money, too. Big villas have been and are still being renovated at great expense, and many shine again in their old splendour. But soon the houses give way to dense forest with mysterious ruins. Until 1989 there was a Soviet army garrison here. A few unmistakable signs can still be seen. A little later we had to decide whether to keep following the signposted cycle path to Steinförde or rather trust the description. Because according to the description we were supposed to keep following the shore of the Röblinsee. Only there was no signpost here. But we had resolved to follow the described and intended route as far as possible, and soon we were walking into the forest and into the unknown. The path existed only in the description. It wasn't on the maps in the Garmin. In a big arc to the north we now walked through a wonderfully wild forest full of mosquitoes to the Steinhavel, and along it, after a few kilometres, we reached Steinförde. See, it works! Here a shell greeted us again, too. According to the description, the pilgrims' way turns left onto a meadow path straight after the Havel bridge. And here, too, there was nothing at the wayside to tell you so. I took a photo and we turned off full of confidence.

Meadow path beyond Steinförde

Walking along a barely visible meadow path, we soon saw a few houses appearing behind a hill. That had to be Kleinmenow, if we were on the right track. And we were. Kleinmenow is another of those places that has no through road and only one paved road leading to it. We left it on a sandy farm track. Walking is especially hard on that kind of ground. We had both expected more of these deep sandy tracks in this area, though, and were quite glad that it hadn't turned out that way and that the paths here had so far mostly been firm and easy to walk. After a large horse paddock on the right we soon entered the forest again and faced the next problem: a fork with three paths and no signpost.

Well, which one now??

Even though it actually led away from Priepert, we took the right-hand one, since it was the most heavily used. And that turned out to be right, as we found out later. Because after a few kilometres, on a wide forest track surfaced with firm stony sand, we reached the forester's lodge of Priepert. We learned later that you were actually meant to leave the track here, half left, to get onto the lakeside path along the Ellenbogensee. But once again there was no sign to be found. And so this time, too, we took the easier option and followed the wide track running dead straight through the forest all the way to Priepert. It was certainly much more boring than a lakeside path, and on wide tracks like that, with no rises, landmarks or variety, you feel you're not getting anywhere at all. It reminds me of a similar stretch on the Camino Francés in Spain. After the climb into the Montes de Oca beyond Villafranca Montes de Oca comes a wide firebreak through the forest that really went on forever. Only there the temperatures were also at a level that soon stopped being pleasant. Here in Mecklenburg, though, we were once again walking in the finest hiking weather. The sun shone from a bright blue sky and the temperatures stayed well below 20 degrees.

The church in Priepert

Lovely farmhouse in Priepert

And in this lovely weather we now walked through Priepert looking for a bakery that Frau Rexer from Diemitz (our accommodation for the night) had recommended to us. But I could see from Andrea's face that she didn't feel like searching any longer. So behind the church we turned left towards the campsite, because there's a snack bar there. And it was really good – with homemade meatballs and home-baked cake. Andrea's expression brightened up again in no time, and we could set off on the second leg of the day. For that we had to go back to the main road. And once there, it turned out we would only have had to walk another 50 metres to be standing in front of the much-praised bakery that offers fresh cake every day. But that's how it goes sometimes. Just short of the goal you give up in resignation, because you think you've lost sight of it. But you should always dare one more look around the corner. On the phone, Frau Rexer had even offered to pick us up here in Priepert when she heard we would be walking from Fürstenberg. Of course I thanked her and declined the kind offer. We have never cheated on a pilgrims' way, and we weren't going to start in Mecklenburg. And things were still going well. My feet, which hadn't given me any trouble at all so far, were free of blisters and pain, and my head was eager for more of the way. Only my back was now giving me more trouble from day to day, because I still hadn't found the best position for the rucksack. It always started at around 20 kilometres. And we would soon reach that.

Beautiful old avenue beyond Priepert

Old barn by the path

Beyond Priepert, which you leave over the Havel bridge on an asphalt road, the path soon forks half right onto a farm track. After the farm track, from which we looked back once more at Priepert and the Priepertsee, we walked through a glorious old avenue of oaks into the village of Hartenland. The avenue continued beyond this tiny place, too. Here it looked as if the road surface had been removed not all that long ago. The ground between the trees was churned up, loose and bare of vegetation. I could have imagined this path as an old cobbled road, which perhaps it once was. Maybe the cobblestones now lie decoratively on some market square or on a private estate. Whatever – somebody needed them, and now this avenue looks a bit odd. And it ends rather unspectacularly in nowhere, because it meets a narrow path where we again had to decide whether to go right or left, since once more there was no signpost to be seen. And it looked as if there had never been one here.

Ahhh!

Before we could go on, though, I had to do something for my back. You wouldn't believe how relaxing it is to lie flat on a meadow for a while. So that's what I did now, and I had to be careful not to fall asleep. But the missing sign wouldn't go out of my head. And so I had to call on the Garmin again. Later, in my tracks, I marked places like this where I would consider it appropriate to put up a signpost. I also marked the spots where you could see there used to be one. On this stage we came across many signposts that had been destroyed by vandals or souvenir hunters or had become illegible from the weather. We were told that signposts are also destroyed again and again by local residents, which I put down to ignorance of what pilgrimage and the way mean, or in the worst case to stupidity and malice. In any case, what's needed here is more thorough education by the regional church and the state government as the organisers of the route. All we as pilgrims could do was improve the way's image – or give it one in the first place – by being open and friendly.

Wustrow

And so we tried to smile and greet people especially warmly here whenever we met someone. During a break in Wustrow, which we had now reached and where there is a little shop where we got something to eat and drink, we even helped with a duck hunt. A few little ducklings had escaped and were in danger of being run over on the road. But it all ended well, just about, because they disappeared into the next farmyard. Yet in Wustrow, too, a signpost was missing at the crucial spot. Almost at the end of the village you have to keep left.

Panorama beyond Wustrow

Uphill we went through deep Mecklenburg sand towards the Klenzsee. A little later we again saw a post on which a shell used to point the way. Then another with its sign torn off. It was slowly getting out of hand. Fortunately, that did nothing to spoil the appeal of the route. It was a joy to walk here, and once again the knack for choosing the paths deserved special mention.

Stone Age settlement or hermit on the Klenzsee?

At the Klenzsee the path once again runs right along the shoreline, and there we also saw a little reed hut with a fireplace, the sort of thing you'd rather expect in the Stone Age. The nearby campsite at Seewalde is probably the reason for this hut and for a few joggers we saw on the lakeside path. At Seewalde we did cheat a little after all, because we didn't go as far as the campsite but stayed on the road to Drosedow. In Drosedow (before the road divides) there's another spot that absolutely needs a sign. In the middle of the village you turn left towards the Drosedower Riek, a marshland. Before you leave the village, there's another wooden stump at whose top there used to be a shell sign. It's a shame when other people's efforts are so little respected, because you could see that this sign had been removed by force.

Log causeway through the marshland near Drosedow

A muddy, wet path leads through the Drosedower Riek, one I wouldn't necessarily want to walk in bad weather. Where it gets really boggy, there was then a log causeway up to a raised bridge, and it had been renewed not all that long ago, because the old logs lay stacked in piles in the marsh, slowly rotting away. After the wooden bridge, which reminded us very much of the Spreewald, you come to a crossroads that simply needs a signpost again. Here you have to go left, because both other options end in a dead end on the shore of the Rätzsee. We followed the path through dense, dark high forest. After about 2 kilometres comes a fork where you have to take the left-hand path, because the right one goes to the Flether Mühle.

Post with signpost, ripped out

But now we finally wanted to get to Diemitz, which couldn't be far. So I quickly photographed the useless signpost that had been ripped out of the ground, and we followed the path the GPS device showed me. Slightly uphill we reached the road junction where the roads from the Flether Mühle, from Canow and from Diemitz meet. The way on from here is clear enough, but we still noticed that under a road sign there was once again an empty spot where a shell sign used to be screwed on. You develop more and more of an eye for where a sign actually belongs. Now, I'm no advocate of plastering the forest with signs, as is the case shortly before Santiago. A bit of a sense of direction and a little thrill are part of a walk like this, and so is common sense – which, however, I deny to the people who lay hands on the signs that were put up here with so much effort. Because at critical points these signs are very helpful and help you keep your inner calm. We had that back now, too, knowing we were close to the day's destination.

At last! After almost 36 kilometres

After the Havel bridge the path was actually supposed to lead onto a lakeside path again (to the Vilzsee). In the absence of a signpost, though, we stayed on the road all the way to Diemitz. Once there we quickly found the house of Frau Rexer, who wasn't home yet. Watched curiously by the neighbours, we simply settled down on the lawn in front of her house, which she had only recently moved into. All the more astonishing that she already takes in pilgrims, because the house is still one big building site. Frau Rexer, who arrived a little later, told us that she plans to convert a former dovecote into pilgrim accommodation. We sat in the living room for a long time, chatting about all sorts of things, mainly the way, of course. Because Frau Rexer looks after the surrounding area as a route volunteer, and we had now confirmed her fears once again that many signs were no longer there, for all kinds of reasons. She asked for feedback once I had analysed my data and photos, which of course I promised her. Actually, it had been agreed that I would pitch our tent here on the property, since the accommodation really isn't finished yet. But that night the temperatures were going to plummet. So we gratefully accepted Frau Rexer's offer to sleep in the living room. I blew up our air mattresses and we spent the night in the house. We'd like to thank Frau Rexer once again most warmly here for her hospitality, the lovely conversations and the potato salad.

Sorry that the word “signpost” comes up so often in this post. But on this stage it really was a genuine problem.

Stage 7: Diemitz – Mirow (18 km)

Whether it would really be just 18 kilometres that we walked today on the last stage of the eastern variant of the Pilgerweg Mecklenburgische Seenplatte depended on whether we found the right paths this time. First, though, we sat at the breakfast table with Frau Rexer. She took time for us, and we were very grateful that she had found a place for us in her house. The donation we left would go to the Diemitz church, she said. Because it was in a worrying state, she said. We thanked her once more, grabbed our things and set off, again in glorious weather – not without promising once more to let her hear from us.

Church in Diemitz

Since Frau Rexer cares a great deal about the way and knows the area well, I have high hopes that she will manage to get the signage improved in the southern part, too, and that her good example might lead even more people to offer pilgrims a place to stay.

Inside the church in Diemitz

In the long, drawn-out village we quickly reach the little church of Diemitz and see what the water has already done to the masonry under the eaves. You could clearly see the areas the damp had already got into. The roof and the gutter urgently needed replacing. Down at the base, too, rising damp was visible. Inside, the vivid colours and rich furnishings of the church surprised us. A pulpit altar that is, for my taste and for this space, a bit too big dominates the room. The heads of the figures already touch the ceiling, which is painted with chubby-cheeked angels and trumpets that seem to be blowing away the clouds painted on it. The ceiling painting is without doubt the church's jewel. There's also an organ in the gallery, which seems to be in fairly good condition. Let's hope enough donations come together to save this church.

On the way to the Großer Wummsee

We left the village towards the Wummsee, not forgetting to take photos at the spots where shell signs had once been fixed. The following section, right along the shore of the Großer Wummsee, is among the most beautiful landscapes we saw on the whole way. The song of the many birds breaking the morning silence accompanied us along this path. Here and there we came right down to the shore and saw the crystal-clear water. And if it hadn't been so cold, I wouldn't have carried my swimming trunks for nothing after all. The branches with their fresh leaves hanging low over the water glittered in the reflections of sunlight mirrored on the lightly rippling surface. Here and there a fallen giant of a tree lay rotting in the water. The ground, soaked by the nearby water, gave slightly under our feet and felt like a thick carpet. Our footsteps sounded muffled. Everything was a feast for the senses. You can tell I'm getting carried away. But how else can I explain it? – Best with photos:

Here we stopped more often than usual and hoped it would go on like this for a long time. But eventually this stretch along the truly large Wummsee came to an end, too. This loop on the way to Mirow had really been worth it. Because of course today's stage didn't take the shortest route to the destination either.

Finding our way along the shore had been no problem so far. But now they were back, our problems with the signage. We had the choice between a path to the left into a marsh with a log causeway (surely very interesting too) and a half-overgrown one straight ahead. We chose the latter, since the other would have taken us even further away from Mirow. Only with the help of the GPS device did we find our way through the dense high forest that followed. Once we reached a main track, after a few hundred metres we came across a shell again. We still haven't been able to work out what the correct route here would really have been. Perhaps one day, in response to my blog, someone who knows better will send a correction.

And more destroyed signposts

Anyway, we were now on a long forest track heading for the village of Schwarz. After what felt like an eternity the forest track turned into a sandy farm track along the edge of a rapeseed field. And then the church tower of Schwarz appeared behind a hill. In Schwarz the route most likely follows the main road. But we turned off half right towards the shore of the Zethner See, also knowing there was a place to stop for a second breakfast. The path on along the shore led us to a holiday camp, where a youth group was just getting ready for a canoe trip. The path my Garmin showed me, which was supposed to take us straight back onto the pilgrims' way, ended on private property. So we had to loop back up to the main road again.

Finnhütten settlement near Schwarz

Still, we didn't regret this little detour. Still in bright sunshine, we carried on along rutted farm tracks, past a settlement of Finnhütten (“Finnish huts”), a popular design for weekend houses in GDR times. Who came up with the idea of naming these huts after the Scandinavian country has surely not been recorded. On a trip to Finland in the mid-nineties, at any rate, I was able to see for myself that there isn't a single house like that in Finland (or they'd hidden it well). The only things that resembled this design were the wooden racks on which fishermen in Finnmark hung their catch to make stockfish. And nobody would want to live in one of those, given the stench. These houses were so popular here in the new federal states, and so perfectly designed, that they were even exported. After reunification we came across these houses again in the Baltic seaside resort of Damp. That's where the sailing events of the 1972 Olympics were held, and the Olympic village consisted largely of exactly these houses, which (so I was told there) were built by a company from the GDR.

On the Hohe Brücke before Mirow

The small town of Mirow

But I'm digressing. Where was I? “Olympics”… No Olympic feats were needed to reach the destination today. It had just suddenly become unusually warm. And so we walked through to Mirow without a break, and didn't let ourselves be held up by two huge stray dogs (probably white Pyrenean Mountain Dogs) either. There wasn't much white left on the two of them. They looked as if they had just climbed out of a swamp. Fortunately they were more afraid of us than we were of them.

Mirow welcomed us with a cobbled street lined with small one- and two-storey terraced houses huddled together. Otherwise, too, the town seemed very small-townish to us, if I may put it that way. I had imagined it quite differently. The big palace and the huge Johanniterkirche on the palace island seem not to belong at all. What did seem big-city, though, was the traffic. Long queues of cars built up at temporary traffic lights at some roadworks, without which crossing the road on foot would have been a risky business. You reach the palace island, our first goal in Mirow, through the gatehouse.

Mirow Palace

You then see Mirow Palace on the right-hand side. The palace is currently being renovated, and unfortunately we couldn't get in. But from the outside it already looked very splendid. Our way now led us to the Johanniterkirche, where a sign invited us into the “Erlebniskirchturm”, the “church tower experience”. What can you possibly experience in a church tower? Well, all right, sometimes you can climb it. At the ticket desk we asked for a pilgrim stamp. But the man didn't really know what to make of us. Before climbing the tower with our rucksacks, though, we agreed, we'd first look for our accommodation. This time it wasn't in the local parsonage (according to the website, building work is still going on there) but at a private address.

Pilgrim accommodation in Mirow

I had already been in touch with Frau Meyer twice, so she knew we were on our way. Finding the house wasn't that hard, even though there was no hostel sign to be seen here either. Frau Meyer kindly invited us onto the property and showed us the accommodation, which is in an outbuilding in the garden. A big bright room with a sofa, a table with chairs and two thick mattresses awaited us. A small kitchen and the shower rounded off the extremely positive impression. After the very spartan parsonages in Wokuhl and Fürstenberg, this was pure luxury. First we had a big load of washing to do, and after we had settled in, Frau Meyer invited us for coffee and cake. She told us that since her husband died she only lets the accommodation to pilgrims. And that, even though she has never been on a pilgrims' way herself, it feels as if she were on pilgrimage herself when she talks to pilgrims and hears their exciting stories. I'd like to thank this lovely woman once again here for the warm welcome. We felt right at home. It's always wonderful to meet people like that. They enrich our pilgrimages.

Johanniterkirche, Mirow

After coffee we set off once more, though, because the church tower experience was still waiting and had made us curious. The man at the ticket desk had probably found out more in the meantime, because without any further questions he stamped our pilgrim passports twice. His suggestion that there were books up in the tower for one euro each and that we should pick some out, however, showed me that he didn't really know how we were getting about. I thanked him and declined the offer, pointing to the luggage we would have to carry on our backs the next day as well.

The Johanniterkirche stands on the palace island and is a single-nave Gothic brick building from the 14th century. It is the oldest building in Mirow, but had to be rebuilt twice (after a fire in 1742 and after shelling in 1945). The interior was designed in the Baroque style. Since 1993, thanks to a support association, the church has had a tower again.

View from the church tower over the Mirowsee

We now climbed its many steps, not without looking at the interesting exhibition on the history of the Order of St John that is housed on the various floors. At the top you have a very fine view over the town and its surroundings. The Mirowsee glittering in the evening sun and the little holiday homes strung along its shore like a pearl necklace looked very idyllic. A few weekend skippers chugged almost silently across the lake in their boats, leaving a pattern of criss-crossing wakes on the water. On the side facing the town, loud cawing got on our nerves. Hundreds of rooks were gathering in the big lime trees around the church, building their untidy nests high up. On the church roof we saw the large photovoltaic system, a sight you'd hardly expect on a church roof. Having worked up an appetite, we climbed back down from the church tower and looked for somewhere to eat. We found it at the “Blaue Maus”, a restaurant in the Schlossstraße, where we ate very well and cheaply. We almost dawdled the time away, because we still had to buy a few things for the evening and the next day. And of course the supermarket was once again quite a way out of town. Never mind. Luckily, we're used to walking. The bottle of red wine we managed to grab just before closing time we emptied in the garden in front of the accommodation, to the annoyance of the little dog next door. Loudly, and repeatedly called back by its master / mistress, the yapper tried to drive us away. “We've got one just like you at home!” I said, trying to reassure the neighbours, who were getting a bit embarrassed. “Tomorrow we'll be gone and you'll have your peace and quiet again,” I told the dog, which didn't calm it down much either.

This was the end of the eastern branch of the pilgrims' way. And somehow I was glad that tomorrow we'd carry on, in the opposite direction, northwards. Because my curiosity and my desire to walk hadn't really been satisfied yet.

Stage 8: Mirow – Wesenberg (14 km)

Right, from now on it was the other way round, meaning: in the opposite direction.

Breakfast in Mirow

We were curious how it would work out with the signposts behind us. And after the experiences of the last two stages, I was once again glad to have the Garmin with me. But apart from a few spots where we had to search a bit, it went better than expected. First, though, it was breakfast at Frau Meyer's. While we packed our things, Frau Meyer laid the table in the garden, and we tucked in, with the sun already shining brightly again in the morning. We could have gone on talking forever. But at some point it was time to leave, even though at 14 kilometres today wasn't very far again. So we said goodbye to Frau Meyer with a big thank-you and wished her many more pilgrims to whom she can give such lovely accommodation.

Forest paths near Mirow

At first we found our way out of Mirow with the GPS device. For a long time we walked along a wide drainage ditch lined with birches. And there was the first signpost already. While so far I had mostly taken photos in the direction of walking, I now more and more often photographed backwards, that is, the way you would normally see the path if you were walking in the right direction. Along idyllic forest paths we soon reached Leussow. Every now and then you have to look back to see which direction to go on in. That sounds strange at first. But it's logical once you've noticed that the waymarks are always placed so that, despite their small size, you can see them from a distance. So we stood in front of the signposts, turned 180 degrees and knew which way to go. Beyond Leussow, though, we searched a bit longer for a sign. Several paths branched off here, and luckily Andrea had picked the right one. When drawing the track from the route description on the internet, I had got it badly wrong here, and so the Garmin would have sent us in the wrong direction in Leussow. We'd surely have got to Wesenberg anyway, but just not on the right route.

Blueberry forest

And so we kept following the right direction, found again after a long search, through a pine forest with a bright green carpet of blueberry bushes. The area we were now walking through had still been a Soviet army training ground 23 years earlier. So everywhere you could still see deep hollows from dug-in positions.

Dug in

At the edge of a barely discernible, overgrown forest track that a shell sign sent us into (or rather out of), I now sat in a former foxhole, had a rest and thought of the poor soldier who once had to dig this hole. Because I was once in the same situation myself. They could have had us dig holes like that at the edge of the forest. But in the forest the instructors apparently enjoyed it much more watching us poke our way through the thick tree roots. Long ago, but still in my memory. Much gets rose-tinted after a long time, and only the nice and funny moments from army days stay in your memory. But these bloody… foxholes stayed. Now it was nature's job to deal with the relics. And only a few overgrown but still visible hollows in the green forest floor recalled the old days. The path through the forest dragged on once again, and it took quite a while until we heard the sounds of a nearby road again. Until now that had usually meant we were close to the day's destination. Because (as I've written before) on this stage, too, the organisers had gone to the trouble of sending us on many a detour just to expose us unrestrainedly to the peace of the forest.

Level crossing near Wesenberg

On the cycle path along a road we now approached Wesenberg, and at a closed barrier I was amazed when an old burgundy railbus came along that still bore the markings of the Deutsche Reichsbahn. As early as 1890 the small town was connected to the Neustrelitz-Wesenberg-Mirow railway company. And so the line is still in operation today. On the way into town you immediately notice the uniform character of the buildings in this medieval town, laid out in an oval below a castle. Many old half-timbered houses have been lovingly restored, and somehow everything fits together.

Market square, Wesenberg

In the middle of the old town rises the Gothic town church of St. Marien. And our accommodation for the night in the parsonage had to be somewhere very near here. And indeed, after a little lap of honour across the market square, we found the red-brick house. From the parish's former pastor, who was already sitting on packed suitcases when I first contacted him and who has now taken up a new post in Hamburg-Altona, I got the phone number of Herr Lömpke from Schwarz, who was now looking after the vacant post here in Wesenberg. And he in turn told us on the phone that a phone number was posted in the display case in front of the parsonage. If we rang it, someone from the town would come and let us in. So you can see that a phone is very important on this route, otherwise you get into serious trouble organising your accommodation. And sure enough, a little later a pickup with a construction company's logo pulled up, and a man in work clothes (the boss of the company, as it turned out) got out and greeted us. He already knew all about it and now showed us the completely rebuilt parsonage.

Rather spartan furnishings in the accommodation

As rustic as it looked from the outside, it was furnished in a modern way inside. State-of-the-art sanitary facilities, a fully equipped kitchen, new windows and doors and new furniture in the communal rooms on the ground floor suggested that a lot of money had been invested here. They hadn't done things by halves. To my mind, though, in places it was already a bit too much of a good thing, considering the state of some of the buildings we had seen along the way. When it came to furnishing the pilgrim accommodation upstairs, on the other hand, they had regrettably skimped a bit. A sofa that seemed to have been left over from somewhere and a decrepit camp bed next to an old coat stand that wasn't fixed to the wall – that was all we found. To this day I don't know why I didn't blow up our air mattresses here. Because the night was going to be torture. I had volunteered to sleep on the narrow sofa, and Andrea had spread her sleeping bag on the camp bed, which creaked so badly with every movement during the night that we both woke up. But it's not our place to complain about it any further. We had a roof over our heads, and as a pilgrim you should be prepared to cope with the simplest conditions. After all, that's part of the appeal of this way of getting around: saying goodbye to the affluent society for a while, dropping out for a time, as the saying goes. But nobody should take us for dropouts, and so we quickly made use of the blessings of modern times in the form of a futuristic-looking shower.

Ancient lime tree in front of the church

Wesenberg Castle

Freed from the dust of the road, we now set off on a walk around the really pretty town. In front of the massive church, a huge lime tree immediately catches your eye. Its trunk has an impressive diameter of no less than eight metres, and so it has been given the status of a natural monument. We had already seen the beautifully restored market square. So we followed the signs to the castle and the harbour. We left the castle aside for the time being, especially as it didn't look particularly spectacular. The site has been renovated since 1992 and doesn't really look the way you imagine a medieval castle. The Fangelturm is a somewhat shapeless brick stump at the end of a large long building. During the Thirty Years' War the castle was largely destroyed, and only the gateway, parts of the wall and the torso of the tower were left. Today the complex belongs to the town of Wesenberg and houses a few facilities, such as the tourist office or a local heritage room with an exhibition on the region's fishing and forestry, looked after by a castle association.

The harbour of Wesenberg

But I had to read all that up, because on the way back everything was already closed. First we saw to getting something to eat, which we found in a beer garden at the harbour. Speaking of the harbour, it's of a size befitting the town and so consists only of a long wooden jetty curving around an inlet of the Woblitzsee. A few anglers, staring not very happily at the surface of the water (tight lines!), sat in folding chairs on the jetty, and an excursion boat had tied up near a supply post. So the sightseeing was correspondingly brief. Once along the jetty, a few photos of the lake and back again, and we turned back to the beer garden, whose good attendance made us suspect it might be worth eating here.

Beer garden “am Hafen”

The extensive menu also promised that nothing here came out of a tin, so Mum still did her own cooking. And I can confirm that. Because the goulash soup we ordered was the hit of the day. The owner of the snack bar was pottering about grumpily with an umbrella stand and didn't seem very talkative at first. A few approving remarks, and his face lit up and he even became funny. He was probably a bit put out by all the jobs his wife, who stood behind the counter, had given him. They were in the middle of preparations for the coming Whitsun festivities. And the huge, freshly mown lawn around the little stage let me guess how often the man had already had to walk back and forth across it today to get it into such a tidy state. What caught my interest, though, was the little wooden stage with the dance floor in the outdoor seating area. Above all because of the difficulties in getting permission for a dance floor at home in our park. I've already written about that in another post. Ideas grew in me, which we now discussed together. On the stage it said “Wesenberger Kleinkunstbühne” in colourful letters. Maybe we should just give our project an interesting name and change it every year, so as to bombard the stubborn authorities with applications again and again. Until they're fed up with us and at least come and have a look on site. Because so far everything has only been decided from behind a desk (negatively, of course), which has taken no less than 5 years. And so we spun our ideas without noticing how much time had passed. By now, you see, it was too late to climb the tower. The heavy entrance door to the tower was already locked – a pity really, but nothing to be done. What we did still have to do something about, though, was the emptiness in our rucksacks in terms of provisions. As usual, the local supermarket was once again a bit out of town. A local woman we asked for a supermarket sent us through a new housing estate on the edge of town. Never ask a driver the way through a town! The good woman had probably never walked to the shop in her life. Why would she, there are lovely big car parks in front of it. And so we only noticed the detour on the way back, when we used the tower of the town church to get our bearings.

In the evening

The evening was still young, and the room and the sleeping arrangements weren't exactly inviting. So without further ado we carried a table from the kitchen out into the yard, to enjoy a little bottle of Rioja there (our favourite wine since the Camino Francés). Right across the way a cycling couple was just moving into the bike-friendly guesthouse, and when the two of them noticed us they drew all the curtains. So no TV! But on my phone I still had a few clips of Kurt Krömer, Rainald Grebe and H.P. Kerkeling, which we laughed at until the battery died. Now, somewhat reluctantly, we had to go to bed after all, and we already had an idea of how that night would turn out. As I mentioned, Andrea couldn't sleep because she hardly dared to move, since the camp bed would then creak horribly, and I kept waking up whenever it did. I, on the other hand, could barely move, because lying on the couch was only possible for me edgeways (on my side), with my feet resting on the armrest.

Why on earth didn't I blow up the air mattresses??

Stage 9: Wesenberg – Neustrelitz (20 km)

This is the only stage where you leave the town by the same road you came in on. And so around 8 o'clock we trudged back through Wesenberg. The night had lived up to what the makeshift sleeping arrangements had promised. And we weren't really awake yet today. We could have had breakfast at the baker's just across from the parsonage, which was already open at 7. But then we would once again have been lugging lots of ageing food around in our rucksacks, which wouldn't exactly improve it. So we preferred to nibble on the previous day's rolls, and I had buttered two more as provisions for the road. In Neustrelitz at the latest there would be plenty of opportunities to restock our supplies.

Setting off in the morning in Wesenberg

Man, was it warm today! You could tell already in the morning that the cool days were over. Even yesterday on the stage to Wesenberg it had been noticeably warmer than on the earlier stages. But let's not complain. So far we'd had really good luck with the weather. And we had only needed our rain jackets once. At the south-western end of the old town we now had to keep right and this time crossed the railway tracks at a different level crossing from the one we had used yesterday. After that the way led through a housing estate, climbing steadily for quite a long way, north-west out of town. Once past the edge of town it wasn't far to Kleinquassow, a district of Wesenberg. Here, once again in the right place, there was a signpost that finally led us away from the asphalt road we had been walking on until then.

Concrete path through the nature reserve

We met a few walkers out with their dogs, and from the edge of the forest we could already hear construction machinery roaring. As we came closer, we discovered the brand-new path paved with concrete blocks, where some construction workers were still busy with a big vibrating plate. “They wouldn't!” Oh yes, they had! Right through the middle of the nature reserve (I think it's even part of the national park – at any rate the path is called Nationalparkweg Müritz) there now runs a concrete path for cyclists. Thanks to the Eurocrats in Brussels for making that possible. An EU regulation stipulates that long-distance cycle routes have to be surfaced, as we learned from a local resident. And in that case people are happy to overlook the status of a nature reserve. Whether the cyclists actually want this, surely nobody asked. We as walkers, at any rate, couldn't see anything good in this path. Like a foreign body, the concrete snake now winds its way through the forest – terrible!

Stork's nest in Groß Quassow

After a few kilometres, though, this path came to an end too, and we were walking once more on an asphalt road for vehicles towards the district of Großquassow. A bridge took us once again over the Steinhavel, which had already crossed our path several times. From afar we could see an occupied stork's nest on a big barn. Storks have been nesting here since 1938; they have bred successfully 64 times and raised 162 young. That makes this nest the most consistent in the whole Strelitzer Land – a sign that a great many storks really do raise their young in this area. Still, it can't compare with the stork population on the Camino Francés. There we sometimes saw up to 6 storks' nests on a single church. Fittingly for the village's main attraction, the local inn is of course called “Storchennest” (Stork's Nest).

A break at the “Storchennest”

And luckily it was already open. So we took the opportunity to have a short break. The very friendly landlord served us himself and, not without curiosity of course, asked us about our plans. As always, we told him everything about the way so far and about what still lay ahead of us. He listened with great interest. And perhaps we also cleared up a few reservations or prejudices about pilgrims. As we heard quite often, some of the people who live along the way see pilgrims, and above all pilgrim hostels, as competition for their business, which would also explain a lot of the deliberate destruction of the waymarks. You come across the opinion that pilgrims are just looking for a cheap way to spend their holidays here. It's certainly understandable that someone who lets private rooms or runs a country guesthouse like this one in Groß Quassow is glad of every bed that's taken.

And so the landlord here, too, poured out his troubles to us and described his struggle to keep the guesthouse and the restaurant going. We told him about the meaning and purpose of pilgrimage and about our incomprehension of the critics and their short-sightedness. Because every pilgrim has friends or relatives to whom they talk about the wonderful countryside and the people, and they bring photos home. Or they write, as I do, a blog like this that many people can read. And since not everyone can see the appeal of pilgrimage and all the privations that go with it, this is priceless first-hand advertising for the region. And with the numbers of pilgrims so far, you can hardly speak of serious competition. Our experience in Spain also shows that, especially in economically weak regions, a pilgrims' way can be a valuable economic engine. Many villages in Castile along the way would long since have become abandoned ghost villages without the Camino.

Mecklenburg-Western Pomerania is also considered an economically weak region in Germany. And this new pilgrims' way is one of many opportunities to give tourism here a further boost. One can only wish the way, the region and the people here that it succeeds. Especially where there are still gaps in the accommodation on offer, most of the signposts have been destroyed too. I think there's a connection, and a fair amount of explaining is still needed to clear away prejudices here.

Brick church in Groß Quassow

In Groß Quassow, at any rate, we had done our very best. They wished us a good journey and we shouldered our rucksacks again. Unfortunately the village's brick church was locked. Looking back, though – and as the end of my account is drawing near I can say this – we found open doors at a surprising number of churches. Of course people here are afraid of looting or vandalism too. But wherever someone can be found who has the time and opportunity to unlock and lock up every day, the pilgrim is presented with an open church, which in my view ought to be the norm on a pilgrims' way.

On the way out of the village, a funny little episode. We came across a “dachshund horse”. We both had to laugh, because it looked as if someone had buried a horse in the ground up to its knees. As far as Userin, the next village on today's stage, the way follows a track with paved wheel ruts, on which we quite often met a vehicle. Storks circled above us, and the insistent calls of cranes echoed over the fields shining in the glaring sunlight. Only the noise of a fighter jet was once again extremely annoying and disturbed the peaceful overall impression of the area.

the way to Userin

Horse paddock before Userin

The horses in a paddock before Userin already seemed used to the noise, since they showed no fear at all at the thunder of the military jet's engines as it climbed. If you leave Userin in the right direction, i.e. heading for Groß Quassow, you need to pay close attention, because the signpost is placed rather awkwardly behind the walker's back and is easily missed. In the village too it wasn't all that easy to find our bearings. But if you stick to the description on the website, you'll find the way without any problems. Here too we found another occupied stork's nest. Userin is quite a pretty village with a large holiday camp on the Useriner See. We left the village at a somewhat quickened pace, though. The reason was, once again, an entirely natural one. I, at any rate, was glad once more to have enough toilet paper with me. And since we're on the subject: please take toilet paper with you and only use paper tissues in an emergency. Because those lie around in nature forever. They contain oily substances that stop the paper from breaking down quickly. When used in toilets they often block the drains, and tissues cause problems in sewage plants too. Especially on heavily used pilgrim routes you come across these avoidable leftovers at almost every spot suitable for answering the call of nature. Right, that's enough of this delicate subject. I've now done enough educational work on nature conservation on this topic. Glad we talked about it!

A rest at the Prälank settlement

Relieved, we carried on into a shady forest, which on this very warm day brought pleasant coolness but also mosquitoes. Out of the forest again, we stopped for a rest at the Prälank settlement, a cluster of just a few houses that doesn't even have a paved road leading to it. “They live nice and quietly here, and idyllically,” said Andrea. But in the same breath she added that in winter or in bad weather things could quickly get difficult here. The idyll is one thing, what strikes you at first glance. Everyday life surely looks quite different once you've got used to the surroundings. So off we go quickly, before we get used to it. The rolls buttered in the morning were soon eaten up too, and so we got up from the little bench again.

Mosquito breeding ground

The next forest wasn't long in coming. And once again we had to get the “Antibrumm” out of the rucksack very quickly, because near the path you could see lots of swampy spots between the trees, the breeding ground of a real mosquito invasion. A few of the pests had already managed to collect their lunch from us, though. They had even struck on our heads, through our hair: whatever you do, don't scratch! That only makes it worse. Back in the sun we had finally shaken off the swarm of mosquitoes. Walking along a small asphalt road and a concrete track, we reached Torwitz and, at the edge of the village, turned onto a field track lined with willows that follows the shore of the Zierker See at some distance.

Cranes on the shore of the Zierker See

All sorts of birds were bustling about on the meadows between the path and the lake. There were herons, wild geese, storks and of course cranes too. And we got unusually close to them. Being so near the town, the normally very shy birds had surely become a little more trusting. Indeed, you could already see Neustrelitz from here. The striking tower of the town church peeked out between the trees. It was still a few kilometres, though, because the Zierker See still lay between us and the town. We left the village of Zierke, which gives the lake its name, off to our left. We had been here once before, two years ago. It was here that we had first seen the scallop shell signs, and without knowing it we had already walked a bit of this pilgrims' way. Only later did we learn about the way. As I wrote earlier, at first we had wondered about the scallop shell being used as a waymark.

Jetty on the Zierker See

So we already knew the pretty covered jetty on the Zierker See, which we reached shortly before Neustrelitz and from which there's a lovely view of the lake. We now followed the way in a zigzag across the grounds of the town's marina and were soon standing at the little harbour basin. A few excursion boats had moored. The outdoor seating of the café and of the restaurant in the old restored warehouse at the harbour was already busy again. We, however, went onto the Helgoland peninsula. Yes, in Neustrelitz Helgoland is a peninsula. There is only one house on it. And that's an inn steeped in tradition, which we already knew too. And where you know your way around and have had good experiences, you're drawn back. Since the arrival time we had announced at the Borwinheim was still a long way off, we had plenty of time for a coffee or a beer.

we meet Anne again

More out of the corner of my eye, I suddenly saw some distance away a green rucksack with plastic flowers that somehow looked familiar. Yes, that's right, it was the pilgrim we had already met in Wokuhl. The one walking the way in the opposite direction to us. What a coincidence that we should meet again now, because in a town of all places there really are lots of ways to walk past each other. To the astonishment of Andrea and the waitress we were chatting with, I jumped up to run after Anne, who was just heading back into town. She was just as surprised to see us again as we were. I invited her for a coffee and of course we chatted about what we had experienced in the meantime. Then our paths parted again, though. We wanted to get to our accommodation and she still planned to walk on to Mirow. “You always meet twice in life,” I said as we said goodbye, aware that this was already our second time. But why not three times? Quickly I jotted down her email address.

Our sleeping quarters in the Borwinheim

As requested, we had phoned the Borwinheim a day before our arrival to register. Another call reassured us that they were already expecting us. A nice gentleman, whose name I'm afraid I've forgotten, welcomed us and, with lengthy explanations, showed us around the huge building, which had only recently reopened after an elaborate renovation costing millions. What impressed me most was the large hall with its built-in organ. “Maybe our cantor will come in to practise,” the gentleman told us. “I'd be really pleased,” I said. Unfortunately he didn't come. We fetched two mattresses from the loft and made ourselves comfortable in the small hall. There was loads of room here, and we spread our things out generously so as to get our rucksacks in order again for once. Doing a wash in a washing machine would also have been possible here. But we didn't need to. We put the mattresses on a fluffy rug lying in a corner of the big room. And so this time we had a very comfortable place to sleep again – certainly no comparison with the night before!

Panorama of the market square in Neustrelitz

After showering, though, we wanted to take another stroll round the town. We already knew Neustrelitz from our previous visit, so we didn't have to embark on a big sightseeing tour. But I wouldn't want to leave unmentioned that Neustrelitz is definitely worth a visit.

The market square in Neustrelitz

The interesting town plan, with the market square at its centre, together with the town church and its striking tower and the town hall, is second to none. The baroque residence town was designed on the drawing board. Eight dead-straight streets lead out of town from the market square towards the cardinal and intermediate points of the compass, or rather meet in its centre. In the nearby palace quarter, besides the beautifully laid-out park with the Temple of Hebe and many sculptures, you can also visit the palace church, the orangery, the royal stables, the Carolinenstift and the Carolinenpalais. Sadly, the palace itself has no longer existed since 1945. But a structure of scaffolding covered with lengths of fabric printed with the façade brings the silhouette of the former palace back to life. The palace church is the work of the architect Friedrich Wilhelm Büttel, whose buildings we had by now come across in many other places along the way.

the metal strelitzia

We walked past the stainless steel strelitzia, gleaming in the sun, which stands on a traffic island near the harbour. The similarity between the name of the flower and the root of the town's name, Neustrelitz, is no coincidence. Indirectly, Neustrelitz gave the plant its name. For in 1773 an English naturalist named the beauty he had discovered in South Africa “Strelizia Reginae” in honour of the English queen. The English queen at that time had been born Princess Sophie Charlotte of Mecklenburg-Strelitz. Well, travel broadens the mind – I didn't know that before either, though somehow I'd never given it any thought. Some would call it “useless knowledge”. What surely wouldn't be useless now was to get hold of something to eat. At the harbour there's a fish hall. It's called “zum Fischerhof”, and supposedly you can get fresh fish here and have a little something to eat. We weren't very hungry, you see.

A storm brewing?

And so a fish roll at this snack bar was enough for us. I really wouldn't want to call the place anything more than that. The outward state of the establishment roughly matched the appearance of the woman selling the fish. It took a real effort to get that sight out of your head while eating your roll. The gentleman who had welcomed us at the Borwinheim had actually warned us already. Why hadn't we noticed this on our first visit here? Back then we had made ourselves comfortable in the beach chairs set out there and found it rather cosy to sit in them, have a drink and stare out at the lake. We did that now as well, and above a dragon boat gliding across the lake we saw a sky that was getting darker and darker. Something was brewing, and we had to fear getting wet on the way home today. So off we went again. We didn't mean the “goodbye” all that seriously, though. The weather with its dark clouds passed over, and so we were able to sit outside in the courtyard for a while longer with a bottle of wine.

large hall of the Borwinheim

Before that, though, we had a visitor. Besides the pastor, we had already been introduced in the afternoon to the former cantor of the Borwinheim. I don't know whether his evening visit was a pretext to check on us, who held the keys to the building, or whether he really wanted to fetch some sheet music, as he said. When the keys were handed over, we had been urged always to lock everything up conscientiously, since burglars had already been at work in the building, or vagrants who had let themselves be locked in. So his concern for the safety of the building was certainly justified. Especially as he clearly didn't quite know what to make of pilgrimage. He asked, after all, how big our group was. He had seen our things spread out in the small hall and was now puzzling over how many people had brought all that. His second question, about our bicycles, and our answer that there were only two of us and we were on foot, only made his confusion all the more obvious. He apparently just couldn't imagine that you can carry everything you need on your back and get by with it for hundreds of kilometres over several weeks. In his defence I have to say that three years ago I couldn't imagine it either.

Aware that we were all alone in this big building, and remembering our host's spooky stories, we crawled into our sleeping bags. The story about the burglars clearly wouldn't leave Andrea in peace, and so she heard strange noises in the night. I was just in my first deep sleep phase when she woke me, and so, to reassure her, I tried to get to the bottom of the noise or at least locate it. I wasn't sure either, but I managed to convince Andrea that the noises were coming from outside. Meanwhile a bit of wind had got up, and who knows what flies around in the backyard of the nearby supermarket and, not being properly nailed down, sends strange noises out into the night.

Just to be on the safe side, I then locked the door of our sleeping room …

… you never know!

Stage 10: Neustrelitz – Zippelow (17 km)

Yesterday's dark clouds have moved off, and so we set out once again into a gloriously bright day. Once our things were stowed in our rucksacks and the mattresses were back in the loft, we handed over the key and left the Borwinheim. Conveniently for breakfast, the supermarket was right next door.

Setting off from the Borwinheim in Neustrelitz

There's a baker's here and a butcher's too. We weren't in much of a hurry again today either, since it was only 17 kilometres to Zippelow. So we spent at least an hour chatting with the people at the next table, an elderly couple who told us half their life story. Around 9 o'clock, though, it was high time to get going – and by the end of the day it would turn out that this was just as well.

Along the B97

The way out of Neustrelitz goes along Glambecker Straße. After a big crossroads it led us on for a few kilometres alongside the B97. Our fears of having to walk a boring stretch beside the busy main road were fortunately not confirmed. Between the carriageway and the asphalt cycle path there's a wide green verge planted with trees and bushes, which makes the walk bearable. Contrary to the route I had planned in advance, we also left the B97 much earlier, turning left onto the Königin Louise Weg. From here to Hohenzieritz, the next village we were now heading for, you can actually rely on the signage of the Königin Louise Weg.

Königin Louise Weg in the area of the Havel source lakes

It follows the course of the pilgrims' way 100%. That's also why I didn't bother documenting missing or destroyed scallop shell markers. The very beautiful path runs almost the whole time over gently hilly ground through dense deciduous forest. Here and there there's a small lake or a trickle of water by the wayside. No wonder, since we were roaming through the source area of the Havel. In this area we were at a kind of watershed. While almost all the lakes south of here were connected to the Havel in some way, naturally or by a canal, the Tollensesee lies, so to speak, on the other side of the hill. The Tollense rises in it and later flows into the Peene. So it has a connection to the Baltic Sea. Along the western shore of the Tollensesee stretches a terminal moraine landscape. Over short distances there are differences in height of more than 100 metres. And so towards Hohenzieritz the path now climbs almost constantly. At the edge of the village we watched the activities of the local volunteer fire brigade. While the “old hands” stood next to their truck and gazed after us in surprise, the youth fire brigade members were hauling the hoses about. Well, at least they have new blood, I thought. Back home our fire brigade is slowly dying out. A tradition of over 100 years is coming to an end – a shame, really. But at 55 I'm by far the youngest firefighter in our village. And so, for reasons of age, we're no longer allowed to step in actively when there's a fire. Our extinguishing activities are now limited to once a month, and only to our thirst, to the delight of the local pubs.

Entering Hohenzieritz

second breakfast

But back to the way: after the climb in the blazing sun we were thirsty too. “There's something coming today,” I thought. And I hoped the expected thunderstorm wouldn't arrive until we had reached Zippelow. The restaurants and cafés in Hohenzieritz were evidently preparing at their leisure for the coming Whitsun holiday, because unfortunately everything was closed. So we had no choice but to sit on a somewhat wobbly bench in front of the entrance to the palace park and eat our reserves: a few mini salamis and two rubbery rolls. But I urged us to move on. Hohenzieritz didn't give the impression of wanting to keep us there anyway. So we only looked at the palace from a distance. A thorough visit would have taken too long. Before we continue, though, an important tip: contrary to what is published on the website, there is no accommodation in the parsonage in Hohenzieritz. The local pastor's reaction when I contacted him before our trip was accordingly. I was looking for accommodation in this area because the hostel in Prillwitz we had originally planned on (also, by the way, contrary to what the website says) wasn't available yet either.

Lovely view of the Tollensesee and towards Prillwitz

As you leave Hohenzieritz, you have a lovely view of the Tollensesee, and you can already see the village of Prillwitz, which lies on the Lieps lake. The Lieps is connected to the Tollensesee by a marshy zone. The road to Prillwitz goes quite steeply downhill. So pilgrims on the western branch of the way can expect a sweaty climb after Prillwitz and can hope it isn't too warm, or that at least the little café in Hohenzieritz is open. In Prillwitz we first visited the very beautiful chapel “zum guten Hirten” (of the Good Shepherd), donated by the new owner of the hunting lodge. It was built in 2011 from clinker bricks more than a hundred years old.

Chapel of the Good Shepherd

Church in Prillwitz

Parsonage in Prillwitz

The local Protestant church dates from the Middle Ages and was originally a brick church. In 1730 it was remodelled as a half-timbered building, and in 1893 it was given a tower in the neo-Gothic style. Besides the very beautiful pulpit and the carved altar, what catches the eye here is the patron's box with its many family coats of arms. Next to the church we could already see the progress being made on converting the parsonage. From the autumn it is supposed to offer pilgrims somewhere to stay. We now made a small detour from the way to go to the Prillwitz boat landing. There's a regular boat service from the Lieps across the Tollensesee to Neubrandenburg. To the right of the path there you look into a very beautifully designed landscape park, at whose eastern end lies the hunting lodge already mentioned. The hunting lodge has had an eventful history. Besides the manor house from the 18th century, which still exists, it was built in 1890 by Grand Duke Friedrich Wilhelm II of Mecklenburg-Strelitz for his son; after 1945 it was looted and used to house refugees. In 1955 the Energiekombinat Neubrandenburg took over the house as a holiday property. Despite some alterations in keeping with the spirit of the times, the palace was at least saved from decay this way. Since 1995 it has been a hotel with a restaurant, and since 2006 the house has been privately owned and stylishly restored. The renovation work is still going on. The parkland has remained open to the public, subject to certain conditions. And so we saw a few people strolling through the park and lots of children playing in it.

Boat landing in Prillwitz

At the boat landing we came across some cheerful day-trippers who were out on their bikes and were taking a break here with a few bottles of beer, coffee and a snack. As soon as we said hello, we were unmasked as Saxons. A bit of small talk and we walked on to the jetty. Next to it there's a bathing beach, and two rather portly women had even ventured into the cold waters of the Lieps. From an island in the lake came the screeching of hundreds of birds. Hundreds of cormorants had already taken control here. Their droppings had stripped the trees almost bare of leaves.

The Lieps

The Lieps is part of the 1,049-hectare Nonnenhof nature reserve. Around 170 bird species breed here. Otters and various rare bat species are at home here too. Every year during migration up to 17,000 white-fronted and bean geese, as well as various species of duck, rest here. Unlike the nearby Tollensesee, all private boating is forbidden here. Even fishing is prohibited. Only the passenger boats are allowed to run. But there was no sign of one anywhere. Never mind, we wanted to cover the rest of the way to Neubrandenburg on foot tomorrow anyway. We now went back the same way to the centre of Prillwitz, to leave it in the direction of Zippelow, our destination for today. The narrow asphalt road is lined with ancient pollarded willows, and in the pastures stood cows of an impressively massive breed.

Pilgrim accommodation in Zippelow

After only a short while we reached the first houses of Zippelow. One steep climb and the village was already over, or so we thought at first. But on the right-hand side a blue and yellow hostel sign shone out from a letterbox, and behind it, number 6a (the tiny village has no street names), a former stable converted with a great deal of hard work and creativity. Three young families have joined forces here and worked a small miracle. And two of them also open their home to pilgrims. On the Whitsun weekend we had some trouble finding accommodation that was still free. And so the room at Frau Falk's was actually already taken when I asked about it by phone. No matter, since that's exactly why I had lugged my tent in my rucksack the whole way. Almost a little disappointed, I now had to hear that the relatives who had been expected hadn't come after all and that we could have the room in the house. Only because the sky was darkening ominously, and heavy rain set in soon after, did I give in and leave the tent in its bag. The relief was written all over Andrea's face. Two floors up there's a very nicely furnished room under the roof of the old house. Homemade apple juice was waiting on the table to welcome us.

our room

A comfortable double daybed was waiting for our sleeping bags. All right then, it was all certainly much more comfortable than sleeping in the tent. The only thing that annoyed me was that Andrea had been right, since she had said beforehand that we wouldn't need the tent anyway. But then I remembered the lovely remark by Krümel, our friend in Neubrandenburg, who had also taken a tent along on his pilgrimage through Spain: “I never actually used the tent, but I needed it for my head.” And that's exactly how it is for me too. I feel more relaxed when I know where and how I'll lay my head down in the evening. Maybe I'll get over it one day. But for now I have to live with it and lug the consequences around. Lovely as the accommodation was, we still had one problem – food. We had looked in vain for places to buy food along today's way, so this could turn into a meagre evening. But Frau Falk invited us, and in her rustic kitchen we ate a kind of spinach cake (there's surely another name for it, I'm not much of an expert there), which tasted very good. We felt a bit embarrassed about it. But we didn't want to turn down the hospitality the kind people here offered us. The nearest shop was in Penzlin, about 7 kilometres from Zippelow. On foot that's far too far for late afternoon. So I borrowed a bike to ride there after the thunderstorm and buy a few things. Whew, how it went up and down! And then the unfamiliar bike on top of that – it took a while for the two of us to get used to each other. But one thing quickly became clear: without gears I would have had to push in a few places. This terminal moraine landscape is a tough one, with its short, punchy climbs. And I'm not a good climber at all, which surely has to do with my being overweight. In the distance I could see the towers of the massive church in Penzlin. But the town just wouldn't come any closer. On every downhill I was already thinking about the ride back. Going into the town in particular, it was a long way downhill. On top of that, the only supermarket still open was at the other end of Penzlin.

View from the window of our accommodation

Shortly before closing time I stood at the checkout with my basket: a few rolls, a piece of cheese, some salami, two bottles of beer (I'd more than earned them after this ride!) and a bottle of red wine. With the heavy rucksack on my back as well, the two of us – the bike and I – now went up the hills puffing even more, but whizzed down them all the faster. A little enviously I watched a road cyclist who practically left me standing on a climb. “If I had my racing bike here! Then you'd see!!” I'd have loved to call after him. As it was, I was glad that the ladies' bike at least had a climbing gear. After about an hour I was back in Zippelow, and I stayed almost dry. Shortly after I got back it started raining heavily again. So we retreated under a carport, emptied our bottle of red wine and looked at the lovely house that served as our hostel here.

And now I was quite glad not to have to sleep in the tent after all.

Links and further accounts

• Website of Andrea and Gert Kleinsteuber with many more pilgrimage accounts
• Website of the Pilgerweg Mecklenburgische Seenplatte

More accounts by Andrea and Gert Kleinsteuber:

• Via Regia / Ökumenischer Pilgerweg (2012)
• Ökumenischer Pilgerweg from Görlitz (2013)
• Camino Primitivo